Pigs in a Blanket
by Akktri
Summary: Ellen Ripley is about to deliver a bundle of joy...in the wrong place.
1. Chapter 1: OBGYN

**Cavern located at 01:31, 44.2122205, -72.5584645 N44° 12.7332', W072° 33.5079'**

**Planet Jagalchi **

* * *

Hungry. So hungry.

I have run the length of this feeble planet and only found enough to whet my appetite.

With one claw, I grab hold of a small crustacean, only about two feet in length, and crack its shell, devouring it.

In the past, far in my distant memory, there rode wild beasts, six legged behemoths with no heads and wildly lashing tentacles. I ate them all.

Half of them I consumed before my yegxigm had developed, so breeding was not a concern.

The other half, well, in between my offspring and my own personal feeding, that was it. No more shaggy hooved Siovgol.

My children endured for a time, but most of them died of starvation.

Only Sshanburo remained, the one that taught me about the hard shelled Madfifo, but, sadly, even she died, due to a misstep on a loose chunk of rock overhanging a chasm.

I still hunger, and the urge to breed is overwhelming. My yegxigm has become so swollen that it causes me pain, but there is no receptacle in which to place my eggs.

I'm not going to make it. Even now I am shaking from low caloric intake, and the creatures in these caves, and even on the surface, are not enough for my needs.

I only have one chance left.

Hybernation.

Slow my metabolic processes for a few months, and wait for the livestock to repopulate itself.

That is my only hope.

* * *

_"When we arrived on Jagalchi, we thought the planet would be another Mars. That was before we found the dissolved bones."_

-Boris Stanislov, planetary geologist.

* * *

**Base 657.3, Planet Jagalchi, 14:00**

* * *

My android doctor slides a rod over the stretched out belly of my pajama top, and a hologram of a fetus hovers above the table in front of me.

I sigh in relief. Human. I don't know why I expected different, but it was reassuring to see a perfectly formed head and fat little digits instead of...

I shuddered, trying not to think about the dreams.

"I'm detecting no brain or heart defects," the doctor said in bored sounding tones. To induce calm, Type 322B androids were programmed to sound overly competent at the expense of bedside manner. "Sensors are not picking up any other abnormalities. The infant appears to be completely healthy, Ms. Ripley."

To make him nonthreatening as possible, Dr. Venn was designed to look like a human sloth, his posture slumped, shoulders rounded, flabby arms, fat stomach.

Behind his square glasses, the robot's beady eyes traveled up and down my body systematically.

Diagnostics scan. Borderline creepy.

the room was a concrete cube, lined with the usual tools of the trade. Self sterilizing tongue depressors, renewable cotton swabs, eye and nose scanners, blood pressure rings.

A monitor, serving as a fake window cum EKG machine, displayed a view of a shore with waves crashing on a beach.

"The nutrient patch I've affixed to your neck should provide compensation for your nutrient deficiencies."

He fell silent, idling, I suppose.

"And my baby is definitely male."

He nodded. "There have been no changes in reproductive equipment of the fetus."

An awkward silence followed as I waited in vain for humanity.

"Do you have any other medical problems which require my assistance?"

I was a million light years from earth, and I was speaking to a robot, but a pregnant woman with hormones has certain expectations about medical office visits of this type.

The doctor is supposed to be as excited as you are about the baby. They were supposed to be happy for you. Dr. Venn, however, treated me no differently than if I'd merely come in to treat a fungal infection.

"Dr. Venn," I frowned. "Did your builders forget to program the word `congratulations' into your verbal dictionary?"

"I congratulated you weeks ago when I informed you that you were pregnant and it was a boy."

I flushed red with anger. "Well maybe I want to hear it again."

The doctor smirked, one of the rare expressions of emotion this model could actually display. "Congratulations."

It'd have to do. I sighed and shook my head.

"Oh baby! That's wonderful!" a voice called from the door.

I looked up and found myself being scooped up in my boyfriend's muscular brown arms. He kissed me.

I smiled, gazing into his dark chocolate eyes.

Brett.

Sweat glistened on his bald head.

He still wore his black engineer's jumpsuit, made of a slick grime resistant material. The uniform that first caught my eye so many months ago.

Ex police officer. Boy Scout. Brains and brawn.

When I first got morning sickness and got checked out, we talked about settling down, getting a transport off this rock. I believed he had the connections and resources to do just that.

Get us a little house in the middle of a bustling city instead of solitary confinement on a glorified asteroid riddled with ammonia swamps.

"You still haven't knitted a space suit for him yet," Brett joked.

I laughed.

"We finally got all the oxygen-co2 compensators fixed. Is it too late to look at the baby?"

The doctor shrugs, then touches the rod to my stomach.

I see a flash, and I'm screaming, clutching my head.

It was an image from the dream again.

I saw an image on a sonogram, but it wasn't a baby.

Something else.

I was lying on a scaffold, lowering myself into a pit of molten steel.

A little beast, a white creature looking like a snake, explodes from my chest, and I hold it against me, so we both could die.

I blink and I only see a human fetus floating before me.

Brett squeezes my hand. "You okay?"

I nod. "I think it's just the isolation getting to me."

But then I shudder as I think about the vision of the huge snarling face.

I got a sense of déjà vu when I saw it. But why?

I've never see a thing like that before in all my waking life.

No eyes.

Distending its jaw.

It seemed so real.


	2. Chapter 2: Haddenite

The auto extractor is part drill, part jackhammer, part laser saw, useful for cutting valuable ores out of a mineral that shattered a regular diamond bit after only a few spins.

Haddanium, named after Dr. Kamara M. Haddix, who first discovered it. Dr. Haddix herself had broken several drills removing her samples, but we had the auto extractor.

People generally run the extractor by throwing their stomach over it, but I had to protect the baby, so I tried to make do with other methods. My hips, my knees. One time I tried my chest, but with the baby on the way _things are sensitive there, _so I opted for a sort of awkward upper body push up that left me weak and shaking at the end of the day.

There were five of us, drilling away on the near impregnable substance. Six, if you're counting boyfriends that just stand around and watch you with worried looks on their faces.

"This is macho bullshit, Ellen," Brett said.

I stopped drilling. I could just barely hear him.

"What?"

"I said this is macho bullshit. Your baby is due any day, and here you are extracting ores like nothing's the matter."

"_Trying to_ extract ores, you mean. I hadn't found a one today, because _your baby_ is causing me to throw up every five minutes."

"It's _our baby_," he corrected. "And you wouldn't be throwing up if you weren't trying to do a man's job with an extra passenger on board."

"Well excuse me for not being content to sit around in a gray cell knitting booties all day while the project runs behind!"

Before he could utter a word of protest, I pressed the bit and laser guide against the unyielding Haddanium.

"Always gotta be the Tomboy," he muttered with a shake of his head.

I stopped. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "I said you're a Tomboy. Sometimes it's the sexiest thing about you. At other times, well, it fucking pisses me off. I'm just sayin'."

My face had been Haddanium, but now I allowed a little sunshine to break out, smiling at him.

He rubbed my back, then left me to go work on machinery elsewhere on the base.

I drilled the rock, trying to ignore the baby's kicking.

The auto extractor chiseled the cracks around my target, loosening the weak points enough to knock the chunk free from the hidden ores.

So far we've found glowing sapphires with gold in their cores, a sort of turquoise that shifted patterns like a lava lamp, and anthracite coal.

Team B is uncovering a lead-like mineral that melts into liquid mercury. You need gas masks for that kind of work. I was actually on Team B for a long time, but when I started showing signs of pregnancy, I was allowed to transfer with a medical note.

The rock was hollow, and when I pried it loose, a swarm of Hell's Lice leaped out, landing on my face and chest, snapping at my flesh with their pincers. A larger one gouged my cheeks, and blood poured down from its claws.

The creatures, although somewhat like lobster, bore a stronger resemblance to genital lice. The other type of crab. Four claws instead of two, oddly excessive amounts of plating with oddly pointed and hairy ridges.

It didn't smell very good, having the thing over my mouth and nose, but I could breathe.

It only felt like I couldn't.

For a moment, I saw only a giant pink thing with legs like human fingers, a long slimy tail curling around my neck as a massive egg, soft, cockroach-like, dropped into my throat.

With a horrified shriek, I ripped the things off my face, then stared at them as they scurried down into a connecting cavern.

No eggs.

No tail.

It hadn't hurt me at all.

Well, only a few cuts.

Thankfully, Hell's Lice only ate some form of lichen, so they were harmless.

We ate the damned things for lunch every day.

Revolting crustaceans that tasted like liver, fermented pineapple, and Cap'n Crunch Berries.

Nearly catatonic, I threw the rest of them off my body.

"Hell's Lice," I repeated to myself.

I hadn't noticed it, but Si had been laughing at me the whole time.

The little spiky haired weasel.

"Remember that gag on Gilligan's Island with the crabs?" he guffawed as he pointed at me.

I scowled at the bony assed figure in the jeans and aviator jacket, grabbing my driller.

"Would you like me to shove this auto extractor up your rectal cavity and see what ores we can extract?"

Grinning smugly, he said, "I don't think you're ready for my rock hard ores."

"I think the laser saw will be enough to cut off anything that needs to be cut."

"Oooh."

I punted one of the Hell's Lice across the cave with a soccer kick.

In addition to yielding giant lice, the exposed crevice yielded the most important archaeological find of the century.

It was a metal icon of purposeful design, a clear sign that an intelligent lifeform existed on this rock hundreds, or maybe thousands of years ago, and, as I picked way at the rock surrounding it with a mineralogist's pick and a laser knife, I discovered the skeletal hand that still clutched it.

"Guys!" I called. "I found something!"

* * *

"It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there."

-Bram Stoker, _Dracula_

* * *

I form the shell of the cocoon with secretions from my anal ducts, which dry and harden in the cool air of the cave. A pair of tentacles will remain exposed, snapping me out of hibernation whenever my prey is foolhardy enough to create vibrations in the air, or on the ground.

The cocoon will open on the front, allowing me a speedy exit, and a quick meal.

A Ss'sikhtokawij can stay this way for a long time

Months. Years, even.

But once I emerge, I will have to feed immediately. I will have only a few hours before starvation puts me in my final sleep.

There. Two more layers, and my cocoon will be complete.

Then I wait.


	3. Chapter 3: Skeleton

My team got together and drilled the thing out, assembling the pieces on a work table at the entrance of the cave. The table normally held tools, but we practically threw them on the floor to work on this.

Out of the five that worked our section of the cave, only the unfriendly Becky Capstan remained busy on the auto extractor. When it was assembled passably enough, the other four of us stood around the strange fossil, pondering its meaning.

Gina Martinez, with her fat brown face and long curly hair, was leaning on her AE, silently gawking. In all the years I've worked on Jagalchi, I've never seen her that quiet before.

Simon was lighting a cigarette, not looking too happy about the little science project we were working on.

Bruce Hatch, our resident artist slash driller, had taken a break from drawing naked female torsos to sketch the skeleton in his grimy tablet computer. He looked like a redneck, and he refused to see Venn about his teeth.

The man gave me the creeps. I somehow doubted whether his doodlings would have any scientific value at all, but maybe that's just my bias from watching him leering at a screen while he sketched nipples on perfectly shaped breasts the size of watermelons. Characters that always have the same dumb looking faces that seem to say, "Oops, did that bra fall off?"

He'll probably use the skeleton in some monster comic, probably one where I'm running around with no clothes on while the thing chases after me. Like I said, creepy.

I tried to ignore him, focusing on assembling the skeleton.

We took hundreds of digital pictures before we took each of the bones out, so we had an idea of the structure, but a lot of it still didn't make a damn bit of sense.

The thing's head was like an ape, but it had fins sticking out of its cheeks, its mouth stuck in a round O like a bass. Two sets of eyes, two in front, two on the sides like a fish, but an ape nose. Upper body had a shell like a cockroach. It had a tail, covered in fish spines and an insect shell, its end tipped with a club like an ankielosaurus.

Dr. Venn explained all these parallels during the course of his examinations. Our other biologists were otherwise occupied, Charlie Jones on life support due to a violent allergic reaction to Hell Lice meat, Travis Duffley in the brig for using cameras to `observe biology' in the women's shower, so we took the android off his usual duties.

"This guy has seen a lot of action," Venn smirked. "The cracked ribs, the bones that have healed badly...almost looks like he was in a war."

"He probably died from eating Hell's Lice," Gina joked.

Si only looked annoyed at the mess. "Where are we going to put the tools now?"

Smirking, Venn said, "Looks like they're fine on the floor."

"This is archeology work," he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. "We're here to pull precious ores out of the rocks. That's it. This is a waste of time."

"Actually," Venn replied. "There's a possibility that several scientific foundations will be willing to endow large amounts of money to excavate further archeological samples of this type. Perhaps drilling on a different section will allow you to continue the drilling work you desire."

Si stubbed out his cigarette on Venn's neck, but the android didn't react.

I frowned at the skeleton. "You said it's a he. If it's male, why are the hips so wide?"

He chuckled. "I suppose a more accurate term would be `it'. This thing apparently bears the children, but also plays a role in fertilizing its own eggs."

I didn't bother asking how he came to that deduction. As a machine, the reasoning was doubtless sound enough, and based on the actual structure of the skeleton.

"What do you make of the icon he was holding?" I asked.

Venn picked it up, his eye scanning it with built in lasers. "Your chief mineralogist already gave the compound breakdown indicating highly advanced manufacturing technologies. The symbol doesn't match any mystical sign in my image library. If we're going by half resemblances, I'd say it vaguely resembles Sanskrit, though this creature has blended it with Japanese. If I were to be really creative, I'd translate it as `ocean famine', but honestly this is like a linguist trying to decipher a Korean work contract with the Hebrew alphabet. You can't build a translation of a language out of another language without a foundation language like Latin." He set it down on the table.

When my swollen stomach bumped it, he squinted and leaned closer. "The symbol just changed."

Venn paused. "I still don't know what it means. Let me try something."

He took the icon, waving it back and forth in front of me, touching it to my arm, my forehead, my chest.

When it touched my stomach, he smirked and said, "This thing likes your baby. A lot."

He placed the object on my belly, staring at the symbol.

"It's turning gold, but it's not the right chemical compound for the precious ore. It's an alloy of quartz, mica and something else."

He pulled it away. "That's odd. Now it's stuck like that."

"What do you think this thing is?" I asked.

"Could be anything. A piece of an engine, a valuable trinket, a religious artifact, or none of the above. Without a Rosetta Stone, I have nothing I can deduce with any certainty."

The other team came in, relieving us of work for the day. After leaving detailed instructions about the care of our fossils, we departed for our living quarters.

Crew quarters are arranged in communal fashion. we have a large shared `living room' are with entertainment and exercise machines, there's a bar, a cafeteria and a group shower. We take our turns with the toilets. We only have separate rooms for our beds and our clothing.

Furniture is the lightweight kind people can easily fold and carry through space. We have memory foam mattresses, better than those spring mattresses they had for us last year. Since we can't easily get luxury items like frames, we've all made do with artfully placed chunks of Haddanium. Furniture accents, Flintstones style.

Mr. Stewart, the nice guy we buried under hydroponics two months ago, had carefully selected each piece so that they fit together with the minimal of tool usage. He did a beautiful job.

At the base, we mostly had classic old movies, but we had entire decades of film to choose from. I lay on a futon in the main room, belly to the side, watching _The Notebook_ on the big screen monitor. Brett sat next to me, hand on the swell, feeling the baby kick.

He looked at the screen with disinterest. "You said the rock changed when it touched your belly?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "What do you think it means?"

Brett laughed. "Shoot, beats the hell out of me! Maybe junior is The One, and when he comes out, he's going to be able to do Kung Fu and float six feet above his crib."

I giggled. "You and your scifi movies."

He shrugged. "You asked."

I gazed into his dark brown eyes. "Is that what you really think?"

Brett shook his head. "Baby, it's just an alien mood rock, probably turns blue when you're constipated."

I laughed at that.

We ate dinner and went to bed.

Well, I did. Early, because of the baby.

I dreamed I was in Central Park in New York, with Brett, pushing a black stroller, one of those old style strollers, kind of a buggy with a top.

It was late spring, warm and comfortable enough to walk around in jeans and a t-shirt.

We pushed the stroller down a path beneath the Dakota, that fancy hotel they showed in Rosemary's Baby and Home Alone, watching the squirrels chatter and chase each other up a tree. Children flew kites.

The baby seemed oddly quiet.

I asked Brett, but he said she was only sleeping.

For a few feet, I accepted that explanation, but then I noticed a fire truck scream past, and then I noticed how heavy the stroller was getting.

"I'm going to check on him," I said, and I leaned over the lip and looked in.

Instead of a healthy light brown baby, I found myself staring at a large black insect with human teeth and no eyes.

It hissed at me, distending its jaw, and a second mouth shot out, snapping at my face.

I awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath.

Looking to my side, I could see that Brett was still out, probably playing poker or something.

Intending to get some warm milk and go to the bathroom, I sat up, turning on the light.

I nearly wet the bed.

Standing there by the door was Mr. Stewart., and he had gills.


	4. Chapter 4: Picking Bones

Balding.

White hair.

He still had on his jumpsuit like he intended to go crack another mineral seam with us.

But he also had gills.

Fins.

A tail.

Eyes on the sides of his head.

Just like the skeleton we'd unearthed.

Charles Stewart. We buried him in Cavern A17C.

Heart attack.

We were going to cremate him, but his burial instructions had us planting a sapling over the body. I remembered the planting vividly.

That, and the fact that Si sneaked in some cannabis seeds when we weren't looking at the grave.

Every time I go into hydroponics, I see it.

Chuck's Hemp Tree.

Yet the man was standing in my bedroom, silently mouthing words.

I rubbed my eyes, hoping I was dreaming, but the phantom stayed where it was.

Even the baby appeared to be frightened. He only kicked once, then seemed to retreat into my spinal column.

"Go home!" the specter seemed to be saying. Then he mouthed something about danger.

"Chuck?" I said.

He just gave me a sad look and turned away, vanishing through the wall.

Frightened out of my wits, I burst through the door in my pajamas, seeking out the comforting arms of my boyfriend.

The sound of coarse laughter led me to a Blackjack game near the bar.

Brett was holding a three of spades, a four of hearts, a joker and an ace of clubs. He smoked because he didn't expect me to be there.

Gina, beer in hand, Bruce, who I guess was sketching in between deals, and Gordon Mutane, our very difficult to understand communications engineer. Usual rogues gallery.

Si laid down his cards, causing everyone to groan in dismay and throw in their hands. The man is a shark.

While the cards were being shuffled, Brett chomped his cigarette and gave me a grin, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Hey, baby! Having trouble sleeping?"

I wanted to tell him about the ghost, but I felt I'd only get laughed at.

"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "I guess."

He took a puff of his cigarette, giving me this stare like he were trying to figure me out. "Bad dream?"

I grimaced. "You could say that."

"Aww."

He rested his head against my belly, squeezing me close.

The cigarette rolled in his mouth. "How about some Blackjack? You can play for me. Whattaya say? Wanna get dealt in?"

I frowned. "You know what they say about pregnancy and cigarette smoke."

Brett stubbbed out his cigarette in an ashtray. "How's that?"

I sighed as I stared at Gordon and Gina, still puffing away.

"That's all right. I...think I'll just...get some warm milk and ...watch a boring movie or something."

"_Titanic_?" he laughed.

I smiled a little. "Maybe."

That's pretty much what I did.

It was decades since the film first came out, but it was still watchable. For the first couple hours, at least.

As the boat on the screen sunk deeper and deeper into the Arctic waves, and I set aside my glass of milk, I dreamed I was standing in a child's bedroom on earth, fine brown dressers and bed frames like I'd seen in the movie, the warm sun beating down from the window.

I was combing my son's hair in front of a dirty mirror. He had to be at least twelve, and his hair was long and golden as a girl's. The clothing was also gender ambiguous. I could have been preening a teenaged girl.

The hair was matted and tangled, and as I combed, big clumps of it came off, exposing shiny pink flesh like a salmon.

More and more of this hair fell away, but it remained matted and tangled as ever.

At last, in a fit of frustration, I spun the child around, grasping her by the shoulders as I prepared to shake her. Or him.

I gasped. The face had my skin color, but no eyes. Just a mouth and a dolphin shaped head like that black thing I dreamed about last time.

Instead of attacking, it simply said, "What's wrong, mother?" As if what I saw were completely ordinary.

When I awoke, I found myself back in bed. Brett must have carried me to the room, though it amazed me how he could pull that off without waking me up or throwing his back out.

He slept with his back to me, having more than likely rolled over in his sleep.

Brett wasn't a sleep grabber like some. He was more inclined to roll off the bed, but he hadn't done that in months. Maybe it was the baby that changed him. Or the process of making the baby.

I tossed and turned for a few minutes with my eyes shut, but sleep wouldn't come.

Brett seemed to notice this, for he rolled over, looking kind of groggy, too tired to be playful. "What's wrong."

"I saw Chuck," I said. "Chuck Stewart." I told him what happened.

After a dramatic pause, he said, "Spooky."

We stared at each other in silence for a minute.

At last he said, "You're working too hard. The baby's kicking, the chemicals aren't going in the right place, and it's making you see weird shit."

"Fatigue?" I said.

He nodded. "Fatigue. Take the day off. You're entitled. The foreman will understand."

And then he grins. "Can't have you snap and do something crazy like shoving an auto extractor up Si's rectal cavity and drilling his rocks."

I laughed. "You heard about that?"

"Babe, you can't play Blackjack and not shoot the shit."

"Fine," I relented. "Maybe you're right."

"Honey, _you know_ I'm right."

I gave him a playful jab.

He kissed me, then rolled over and tried to sleep again.

I couldn't. I kept wondering if this planet had some sort of mummy's curse, that we should leave the place alone and just go elsewhere.

I sat up. There's nothing more boring than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling as you try and fail to sleep.

I tapped Brett's leg. "You think they'll let me assist Team D3?"

He dragged me back down to my pillow.

"Chill, you workaholic. Do you want to see Mr. Stewart again, or do you want to get some rest?"

"I can't," I said.

"You can't what?"

"I can't sleep."

He rubbed his face, appearing to have given up on sleep himself. "It's too bad I can't give you my normal prescription. A little whiskey, a little roll in the sack...instant sleepy time."

I rolled my eyes. "For you, maybe."

"I'd suggest the Green Haze, but I don't know if Junior will like that one any better."

"I'll go ask Venn," I said.

The good doctor was plugged into the wall like a toaster. He stood rigid against the wall, eyelids shut like he were sleeping as a cord ran electricity into his spinal column. His stomach synthesized electricity through various chemical processes, but during the night when no one's looking, he prefers the direct approach.

"Odd hour for a visit," he said when I came in.

He never really sleeps.

I watched him unplug himself.

"What's going on? Back pain? Nausea? Overactive bladder?"

"I don't know," I said. "I just can't sleep."

"How many hours ago have you ingested caffeine?"

I shook my head. "Yesterday at breakfast."

"Is it the baby?"

I frowned, rubbing my face. "I'm having nightmares."

"Describe them."

He gestured for me to lay on a futon in the corner of the room.

"The act of writing or describing the nightmare is often cathartic. Often the phrase you use to describe the situations provide clues about the underlying real life emotional distress."

And so I unraveled the dream to him, and we decided it had something to do with my fears of miscarriage and dying during childbirth, the `bug' possibly being Sudden Infant Death Syndrome or some other child killing disease, evident in the Grim Reaper-like image that faced me.

It all sounded plausible except for the fact I could swear I remembered seeing the creatures before, and not just from another dream as he prompted me to speculate.

He prescribed a recording of meditation techniques for a few days and told me to see him if it didn't work after that time.

As he was slowly loping his way back to the charger, he suddenly turned to me and said, "Oh, by the way. You're going to need to find new site for the skeleton. Mr. Goldike has been tampering with your find."

"What!" I cried. "That bastard!"

Dennis Goldike is the project manager. Big, intimidating man with glasses, a goatee and a mustache. With his thick muscles and shiny shaved head, he looked like a member of an Aryan Nation prison gang, and his cold blue-gray eyes would be at home on a serial killer. Even his gray jumpsuit could have worked as a prison uniform. I often pictured bolts on that thick neck, and tried not to smile.

When I showed up at the job site roughly four hours before my shift, I wasn't in a smiling mood.

The skeleton had been carelessly scattered on the floor, replaced by busy sample analyzers and a large machine that strips Haddanium off chunks of ore.

The skull of our fossil was crushed, the tibia and fibia snapped into smaller pieces, ribs tossed every which way, mostly shattered like the discarded breast bones from a Thanksgiving turkey.

I've lived in this male oriented mining facility for months, so I'm not afraid of any man, especially my skinhead boss. If he fired me, it would be a blessing, because then I'd be able to go home. If he tried to kill me, or something worse, I'd know exactly where to hit a man to leave him crying on the floor in a fetal position.

The man was sipping coffee, studying one of his precious swirling turquoise samples like nothing were wrong. Behind him, Watson, Miller and Hetfield were busy ripping my mineral seam apart, doubtless pulverizing bones, pottery and other important discoveries to powder.

I was dressed in carnation pink cable knit maternity wear patterned with little dogs, but my anger burned so hot, it wouldn't have mattered if I had on a clown costume.

"What is the meaning of this!" I shouted.

"A mining operation, Ms. Ripley," he said matter-of-factly. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're ruining fossils and demolishing valuable scientific evidence! Erasing whole histories for the sake of a few shiny rocks!"

Mr. Goldike slapped his hands on my shoulders, glaring at me like an enraged but strangely calm bull. "Ms. Ripley, this is a mining operation, not a scientific expedition. You were brought here solely for the purpose of extracting valuable minerals, not collecting archeological specimens for a museum. This is the charter you signed, so that's what you presumably agreed to. Are we reading from the same page, Ms. Ripley?"

I reluctantly nodded, but didn't look in his eyes. I might not be afraid of men, but I am not immune to psychological manipulation, especially when the manipulator insists in breathing in my face.

"You seem uncertain, Ellen. Am I wrong in saying that you were hired to this outfit for the specific purpose of extracting mineral ores, or is it I who am mistaken? I want you to tell me, because both answers can't possibly be right."

Using my first name. Like we were friends.

"You're right," I muttered reluctantly.

"What?" he said, adding insult to injury.

"I said you're right!"

"Are you sure? I still don't see much certainty, Ms. Ripley."

I glared at him looking dead in his eyes. "Go to hell."

He rubbed my shoulder. "Look. Ellen," he said in condescending tones. "I know you're pregnant, but this isn't how you speak to a superior officer."

"I can talk to you any damn way I want," I growled. "What are you going to do? Fire me? It's not like you can afford to ship me away..."

His eyes bore down on me like impassive ice chips. "Would you like me to put you back on mercury mining?"

I gasped. "You bastard!"

Goldike waved his hands like it were outside his control to avoid doing so.

"You can't force me to do that, either."

"Can't I? What if I put a restriction on the supplies you need? Might make things kind of difficult for the baby, but if you want to play this game..."

"What jail did you escape from," I muttered.

There he was, rubbing my shoulders like I gave him permission, talking to me like he talked to Gina when she asked him to help her take off those extra pounds. I was glad he didn't feel the urge to rub anything else.

"Ellen. I really don't want to hurt you or your baby if I don't have to. You've done a lot of good work for this site. Could have been better had you been able to run the machines like the others..."

In other words, `had I not gotten knocked up.'

"But you're doing well. I always see you as my special project, looking for ways to improve your work."

I shuddered at the thought of him singling me out.

"My advice: Forget about the archeology until you leave. Just do your job. Take care of the baby, and you can go home with a nice bonus in a few months. Ninety solar days. That's all I'm asking. That's not too much for you, is it, Ellen?"

I sighed. "Fine. You don't care about science. I understand that. Can I go now?"

He didn't let go.

"That's not the answer I wanted to hear."

"What the fuck do you want me to say!" I shouted. "You say you're going to get ores, hell or high water, you say forget the fossils, and then you threaten me!

"How's this: This is bullshit, you're an asshole, but I won't fight your decision because you're the boss! How's that!"

"Ellen," he scolded.

"Can I go now."

Before he could continue his attempts to force words into my mouth, I see a chunky Navajo woman marching up to him. Spotted Owl Gonzalo, the woman who always sings showtunes in Diné when she's drilling.

"Sir," she said in an urgent tone. "We've found another fossil."

"Plow through it," Dennis said indifferently.

"That's the problem, sir. We can't."


	5. Chapter 5: The Gate

Rick Henderson was an overweight young man with buzz cut hair and a slack face. He looked more like a grocery store butcher than a miner. I barely spoke to him due to him working second shift.

Rick claimed to have done black ops for Unified Government Intelligence, going on secret missions and helping the International CDC, but he spent every day brainlessly drilling Haddanium month after month just like everyone else in this hell hole.

His pasty, flabby armed companion Will was just as sketchy, but in a different way. Will didn't talk so much as mutter in low tones, and when he did, he would tell me things like how he was going to take the next ship to earth and make a million dollars as a rapper, or an air equipment repairman. He also claimed to be good friends with famous big time musicians I'd never heard of.

As his square glasses peered at our newest find, he uttered another nugget.

"I heard an Arab mining outfit on Shango 9 found a door just like this." He puffed smoke from his cigarette. "Treasure vault full of silver and gold and shit. Gold coffins in every room, every one of them covered in fat diamonds." He stuck the cigarette between two fingers and formed the shape of a grapefruit sized diamond with his hand. "_Fat._ Never had to work a day in their lives again. The whole team. Mansions. Drugs. Hookers. Whatever they wanted. Forever."

We were staring at a monument someone had chiseled out of Haddanium. Piles of Haddanium lay strewn around, but you could still tell that it was the entrance to some kind of pyramid, or a mausoleum. A plain, blocky structure, vaguely triangular, carved from top to bottom with indecipherable runes and abstract symbols. A cold chill ran down my back just looking at the thing. I silently prayed they'd never be able to open it.

The monument was in a larger cavern than my site, filled with narrow stalactites with braided formations that let light through the gaps. The urine smell of ammonia wafted up from the lake at the far end of the cave. I was pretty sure ammonia was okay for the baby, as long as I didn't hang my face over the pool and breathe in. A million pet owning parents can't be wrong.

I was still in my pajamas, but I had to see what the fuss was about. A monument that couldn't be drilled...

Tarnisha, a tiny little twenty year old black girl with a button nose, listened with wide eyed amazement at Will's story.

"As if they needed the money," she muttered. "Probably built themselves a solid gold swimming pool."

Will puffed out a small cloud. "I know. But what if this is our turn? We only need to figure out how to open the door."

"Are you sure the AE doesn't work on it?" Dennis asked.

I couldn't remain quiet any longer. "I really don't think we should open this thing," I blurted.

Dennis whirled around to browbeat me again. "Ellen, did I or did I not make myself clear about the objectives of this operation in our last discussion?"

I sighed, not replying.

He frowned at my outfit. "Ellen," he said, grabbing my shoulders. "You're tired. You don't think logically when you're tired. Why don't you return to bed, so we can have a nice rational discussion about it, around, say, 13:00?"

"My shift starts at-" I began to protest, but he raised a silencing hand. "I'm giving you an exemption. I insist." And he waved me away.

"How come she gets to sleep in?" Tarnisha complained.

Dennis just gave her a dismissive, "We'll talk about it later."

As I was leaving, I could hear Rick saying in his usual falsetto, "The way I heard it happen, they found a machine that turned granite into pure gold, but it wasn't on Shango, it was on Archeron, on the far side of the planet. Some guy got greedy when he found it, and there was a fight. Someone set off explosives and the whole place caved in on top of them. Only one miner escaped, and he came away with nothing. They say the machine's still buried under a million tons of granite." He chuckled. "Happy digging."

I returned to my work site, frowning at the second shift team carelessly tearing apart the walls.

They'd found more bones, but discarded them on the floor without a care for what they were looking at.

I noticed the strange little icon we'd found earlier on the ground next to the work table, not quite discarded, but placed right against the table on the rubble strewn floor as if someone couldn't decide whether or not to throw it away. Like the bones.

I don't know what possessed me to take it. Perhaps it was just laying claim to an undervalued historical artifact, or the idea of someday collecting the bones and giving the skeleton a proper burial, despite the fact I couldn't actually bring myself to take the bones. With all the nightmares, I still don't completely know why I did it, but I took it with me to crew quarters.

I still couldn't sleep. I gave it up, taking a shower.

When I got out, I laid down on the couch and glanced at a PDF about mothering on my tablet, lost interest, started reading my _Twilight_ e-book instead.

The crew computer contained more than a hundred terabytes of digital entertainment, books, movies, music, practically a Library of Congress in a plastic cube the size of a child's lunch box.

Nobody on my team played the games, but it had those too. Rick was rumored to be an expert in the sniper / tactical games, and wouldn't show up to his shift at all if the system didn't automatically shut off thirty minutes before his shift started.

The trouble with e-books is that they're digital and your eyes start hurting after a few hours of staring at the screen. I set the so-called `book' aside and napped a little.

No dreams this time. Instead, I was awakened by Si yelling, "Ripley! We need the stone! Where'd you put it?"

"What stone?" I muttered groggily.

He looked at me like I were stupid. "You know, the thing you dug up! It changes color! Where is it?"

Oh.

That.

Before I could get up, he grabs it off the Haddanium end table I'd left it on.

I sat up quickly. "Wait. What-"

He was already on his way out.

I was wearing my maternity clothes, a loose fitting burgundy top and pants. I wasn't as ridiculous looking as I had been a few hours before, so I donned my boots (uncomfortably tight due to the swelling you get from pregnancy), and hurried after the man.

I bumped into Brett a few feet from the door.

He grabbed my arms. "Whoa, sugar. Where you off to in such a rush?"

"Si has the icon. He's going to open the vault, tomb, whatever it is."

He frowned. "What vault?"

We went back together.

Second shift never left the site of the monument. No one wanted to miss out on their cut.

"I'm going to take that gold and buy a yacht," Si said as he pressed the icon against various runes.

He puffed his cigarette. "It'll be just like a house. I'll wake up, go to a bar, eat at the best restaurant I can find, in that order. Spend the rest of the day water skiing and wind surfing."

"How is this different from the shit we've already dug up?" Gina asked.

Si shook some ashes off his filter. "Because those ores are literally shit. It's about as valuable as coal. That's why we're still stuck in this asscrack of a planet instead of riding back loaded like sultans."

"The company keeps cutting our revenues," said Bruce. "That's why we need to get this thing open. It's the difference between ten percent of a hundred and ten percent of a thousand."

Dennis, who was present, didn't disagree.

"Wait," my boyfriend protested. "How do you even know there's gold in there? What if it's nothing but a bunch of shriveled mummies and crumbling papers?"

"You should never disturb the bones of the dead," Spotted Owl agreed.

Si puffed and faced our barely audible information source. "Will. How much gold was in that place on Shango?"

"Stacks." He raised a hand to measure an imaginary waist high pile. "This high. Stacks and stacks of gold. The door looked just like this one. I saw pictures."

Brett just frowned. "If it looks like bullshit, and smells like bullshit," he muttered.

Dennis glared at me in annoyance. "I thought I told you to take a rest."

"I can't sleep," I said.

Before he could say something, I said, "I'm feeling better." And then I lied to him, telling him I really was stressed out and how I really wasn't thinking clearly about the purpose of the operation. It made me sick to my stomach, but it was either that or being sent away. Those agonizingly dull moments in crew quarters had done their job. I had to know what was in there. I just had to.

Si pressed the icon into a rune near the door. It stayed in place when he let go, but nothing happened.

"Obviously it goes there," he said. "The shape is perfect. It's not falling off, so why isn't it doing anything?"

"Maybe it needs to be hammered in," Gina suggested.

Si slammed the object with his fist a few times, but nothing happened. A couple times he hit it so hard that he looked in pain.

"Dammit," he groaned.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Spotted Owl as she stared at the runes. "You know those confusing pictures on the back of Christian children's magazines? The ones that hurt your head?"

"No," said Will. "No I don't."

She pointed at a rune. "That looks like a carrot."

Her finger moved to another tapered shape. "And that one looks like the underside of a fish."

Si rolled his cigarette in his mouth. "You want us to circle everything with a red pen or something? Call me crazy, but I think that would be a tad counterproductive. Call it a hunch."

"And what are you going to do? Bang it with your fist again?"

"No, I'm going to bang it with your fucking head."

"You try it, and I'll shove that stupid piece of shit..._whatever it is_, so far up your ass you'll have to sit on that wall to open it."

"Children!" Dennis scolded. "Do I need to put you both in time out, or are we going to get this wall opened sometime today?"

"Listen, asshole," Spotted Owl said. "You can make up any deadline you want, but it ain't happening if Mother Nature says it ain't happening."

He narrowed his eyes. "It sounds like you've got the inside track. Please enlighten the class on how you intend to convince Mother Nature to open this wall."

She only shrugged. "Mother Nature says you're fucked."

Dennis glanced at Rick. "Who has a hammer?"

For the next ten minutes, various methods were employed. Hammers, miniature jackhammers, an assortment of blunt objects.

They were discussing explosive charges, and Will had just placed a package of Nitro 9 and a detonator when I heard Dr. Venn saying, "Mind if I make a suggestion?"


	6. Chapter 6: Keymaster

The idea was obvious to everyone on my team. After all, the icon had changed when I touched it.

"Why do you think this will work?" Will asked as I was directed to the stone slab that presumably served as a door.

Dr. Venn explained the phenomenon with the icon, then added, "It's possible that we are dealing with the technology of a matriarchal civilization, one in which pregnant females have an especially elevated ranking."

"In others words," Will muttered. "It's exactly the same as ours."

I frowned at him. "You shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about."

"Funny. I thought having a pregnant psycho ex-girlfriend would count."

I just rolled my eyes.

Marching to the door, I stopped short of touching the icon.

I really didn't want to open this thing, if it, in fact, could actually be opened and wasn't just an elaborate facade.

When I turned and looked back, everyone was staring at me impatiently, Dennis the most impatient looking of all.

Mustering up my courage, I spoke firmly and flatly. "No."

That yielded frustrated groans from both crews.

"What do you mean no!" Si protested.

"I won't do it."

And as the protesting got more animated, I added, "We don't know who or what is in there. It could be anything. We don't know for a fact that there's treasure in there. We could be walking into a trap."

Si shook his head in frustration. "We also could be completely safe, and you're just being a bitch."

Before I could tell him off, Gina chimed in with, "You don't even know if it does anything. Maybe it doesn't even work, and you're freaking out over nothing."

Although the argument was logical, I felt, deep down in my gut, that this thing was going to work.

"What if it's, I don't know, some kind of explosive, or biological agent, and I end up arming it?"

"We'd handle it with the normal safety and hazards procedures," Dennis said in tones that were supposed to sound soothing, but weren't. "Every step of the way, we will be following standard safety protocol."

I glanced at the icon behind me and shuddered.

It reminded me of a dream. The kind of nightmare that, upon your awaking, hides behind a blind spot in your consciousness until you see something that triggers it.

In that dream I saw death.

"No. I don't care what you tell me. I'm not doing it. It doesn't feel right."

The man breathed through his nostrils like a frustrated bull. His face looked like he were ready to scream.

"Why doesn't it feel right?"

"I have a bad feeling. I saw it in a dream. People died."

He again gave me unwanted shoulder massages.

"Ellen. That was a dream. Dreams are not reality. Am I wrong?"

When I didn't answer, his fingers prodded uncomfortably through the fabric of my blouse, digging into my skin.

"Have you actually seen a unicorn flying around? Do you often encounter talking jellybeans or blue elephants?" I heard some people chuckling at his ridiculous comments, but it only made his argument more stinging. "Or would you agree that they're nothing but meaningless psychological disturbances?"

"Well, not meaningless," I blurted.

"Go for a section eight!" I heard someone hissing. "You'll go home early!"

"I'm sorry. _Symbolic,_ then." He made it sound like the two were essentially the same word. "Not real. Would you agree?"

"Well, yes," I stammered. "Now that you put it that way...but..." I frowned at the gate. "That's something different. I never saw it before in my life, but it was there. In my dream. It has to mean something."

He squeezed my arms in an unpleasant way. "Ellen, you're holding up the whole operation, and if this doesn't work, it'll be for no good reason."

His hot breath washed over me, filling my nostrils with the smells of half digested Hell's Lice, rations and coffee. It reminded me of vomit. "Don't tell me you don't remember our little discussion."

"Yeah," I said, raising my voice so that the others could hear. "You said to stay out of the way of progress or you'd put me back on mercury mining so I could have a miscarriage."

He gave his audience a sideways glance. "That's not what I said!"

"Maybe not, but that's what you implied. And now you're going to make me inhale toxic fumes if I don't open this thing that might be the death of us all."

His eyes bore straight into mine like a mad hypnotist.

"Listen to me, Ellen. I don't care if it opens or not, but you've got to at least try. Just touch the damn thing. Shove it a little. See if anything happens. That's all I ask."

"But I know something will happen," I said.

In the background, I could hear Gina commenting, "She needs to have a psychological review."

Dennis ignored this. His piercing eyes bored into me. "Why? Because you saw it in a dream?" He sighed. "You really want your baby exposed to mercury poisoning, don't you?"

"No!" I shouted.

"Then do what we say. Touch the symbol."

Brett had been listening the whole time, but he hadn't interfered because Mr. Goldike is his boss too, and I guess he figured I had things under control. But now he stepped in, tapping the man on the shoulder.

Dennis didn't look.

"I got five reasons why you should leave my woman alone!" he said.

The boss man turned to look. "Oh yeah? Name one."

Brett answered him with a fist to the face.

Brett is big, but Dennis is bigger, so when he landed a fist into the side of my boyfriend's head, he hit the floor.

Mr. Goldike's reasons, it seemed, were more compelling.

"Brett!" I shouted.

"Take him to the brig!" Dennis growled.

Nobody moved.

"Certainly one of you values his or her job enough to put this man away!"

"What," Will said. "And let everyone else claim all the shit?"

At last Spotted Owl took on the task, dragging my boyfriend to his feet and leading him away. I tried to follow, but Dennis held me back.

Silently, he clamped his large hand around my wrist, dragging me to the icon, and slapped my hand down on it.

With angry grinding sounds, the object glowed purple, slowly sinking into the Haddanium.

Everyone around me cheered as the giant rock slab, immune to drills, cracked open, inch by inch, tantalizing the eye with a sliver of golden light.

"Damn," Will breathed, awestruck as the slab rose higher.

Dr. Venn eyed the door closely. "It's remarkable that the mechanism is in working condition after so many centuries of disuse!"

"That looks like water," Gina said as she stared at a wavy yellow-orange reflection.

Dennis was apparently seeing a future of panning, for he blurted, "We have sieves in the kitchen. Someone go grab a couple."

Will didn't get it. "What, are we making spaghetti now?"

"If you want to fish gold nuggets out of ammonia with your bare hands, be my guest. I was just trying to make it easier."

Tarnisha cast her companions a distrustful glance, then ran off in the direction of the cafeteria.

The aperture widened, the golden illumination spreading like a smile.


	7. Chapter 7: The Stables

The aperture widened further, and I could see a darkened corridor, lined with elaborately carved pillars.

As ornate as it was, I couldn't see any treasure. It was hardly King Tut's Tomb.

"I don't see any gold," Gina frowned.

"This whole structure indicates an intelligent civilization," Dennis said. "And, more importantly, an economy."

"Economy means treasure," said Rick.

Si was grinning ear to ear. "And that means gold must be hidden in there someplace."

"Economic systems are based on scarcity," said the android. "If anything, judging by the low availability of hydrogen and oxygen on this planet, their treasure troves may be filled with gallons upon gallons of water."

Dennis looked unperturbed. "If there's only water in that vault, I'll take it. Abolishing water rationing would be a great boost to morale."

"To have a real bath!" Gina moaned. "Or a swimming pool for that matter!"

"Water's bullshit," said Will. "If I can leave this dried up rock with some gold statues, I'll happily pass on drinking and showers until I get back."

"How can you live a day without drinking water?" Si asked.

Will lives on carbonated soft drinks and beer, and he's given a lot of thought to why it's disgusting to drink water. He doesn't get to make his speech.

"If you do that," Gina said with disgust, "I'll _happily_ spray your filthy ass with a fire hose."

"You need to scrub your dirty ass first."

"Children!" Dennis scolded.

The gate rumbled to a stop at the upper arch of the door, making a secure sounding clamping noise.

The boss marched up to the opening.

"Team, once we're in there, spread out. If there's anything that looks remotely dangerous, I want to be notified ASAP. All claimed treasure will be reported to me immediately. Failure to do so will result in punitive measures and a dock in pay. Understood?"

He mostly got "Yes sirs".

"I thought a dock in pay _was_ punitive," said Rick.

"Believe me, you don't know the meaning of the word."

Tarnisha returned to the cavern clutching two large metal colanders, panting and gasping for breath.

Dennis turned around and faced the team.

"This expedition is completely voluntary."

Glancing at me, the indirectly at our group, he continued, "You're welcome to return to crew quarters. Rest up. Regular mining schedules will resume in seventy two hours."

Nobody moved.

I thought about going back to bed, or checking on Brett, but I did neither.

I wanted to know.

I wanted to see if my foreboding dreams were genuine warnings or merely murmurings of a troubled subconscious.

So when the team moved in, so did I.

The first fifty yards of the tunnel was a straight line. What we thought were side passages were actually blocked by tall sheets of glass.

Really, `glass' isn't the best description, for it rippled like water, and when Si tried to smash one, it didn't break.

When Venn examined it, he muttered, "They've developed their own bulletproof glass. This stuff is actually made out of a gold derivative, which explains the yellow-orange shimmering you saw when you first opened the door."

"Is it valuable?" Si asked.

Venn chuckled. "Sure. If you can pry it out of its Haddanium frame!"

As Si left to go get an AE, I stared at the `glass', watching it shimmer like a lazy pond.

Beyond I could see a small chamber with a door, containing the mummified remains of a headless four legged beast in a fetal position, vaguely horse-like in its skeletal structure, surrounded by what I presumed to be food and water dishes.

I looked through the windows on the other side and found more of the same.

Seeing Rick peering through the `glass' opposite to mine, I called, "What do you see?"

He gave me a shrug. "Looks like they've pulled a decapitated horse out of a bog."

Will pressed his face against the clear gold.

"They didn't waste any money on their animals."

"Any guesses about what this place is?" I asked.

"It appears to be a stable," said Venn. "Though the stable boy seems to have abandoned his post."

The corridor came to a stop in front of a giant door, and tunnels forking away from it in two directions.

Without a word, Tarnisha marched off to the left with her metal strainers, Bruce to the right. The rest of us stood staring at the door.

Si squinted at the runes for a moment before shouting, "Pregnant-Key!"

When the others failed to understand his clever joke, he said, "Someone, anyone, go get that thing from the outer door. Looks like we'll be needing it again."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Rick said. "Ever watch _Indiana Jones_? You might cause a collapse."

Dennis thoughtfully stroked his goatee for a moment.

"As silly as that sounds, he's absolutely right. If we pull out that icon, there's a chance the outer door could close us in here forever. We'll have to figure out another way."

"Do we have a Jaws of Life around here somewhere?"

"We have a Cave-In Assist Tool," Gina said. "But it's way over at Cavern 72M."

Rick sighed. "I still don't understand why we don't have one of those in every cavern."

"Because it's expensive," said Dennis. "Because we're careful. Because it's Haddanium, not granite or limestone. Because we have evac drills to limit the need to use the CAT340."

"The CAT has all terrain wheels, early warning systems for chasms and dangerous formations, and it can travel at speeds upwards from sixty five miles per hour."

We all stared at the android.

I was unimpressed. "How do we know that door won't just slice the CAT in half?"

"It can withstand Haddanium collapses," Venn shrugged.

"Can you make it come here, _at a speed upwards from sixty five miles per hour_?" Si asked.

"You know how poorly radio waves travel underground," said Dr. Venn. "I can try, but I can't guarantee we'll get its attention."

Gina frowned. "Then how would it save us in a cave-in?"

"You activate it with microwave radiation," said Dennis. "The transponder is in my office."

Will laughed. "So you're going to cook a burrito and make it come over here?"

The boss groaned, rubbing his face in frustration.

"The sun can broadcast energy waves through entire planets without interference," said the robot. "While the technology hasn't been developed enough to send messages through this media (the energy requirements would be, pardon the pun, astronomical), we use the energy waves to activate machines. Of course, we don't have an unlimited supply of power like the sun, so we can only manage a distance of thirty miles. Cavern 72M is only twenty, so you should be good."

"So who's going to get the microwave?"

No one moved. My team looked like a bunch of cutthroat pirates hovering over a locked treasure chest.

After a long, tense staring match, Rick rounded his shoulders and said, "All right. I'll do it."

Dennis handed him a key, and off he went.

As he slowly shuffled out the entrance, I noticed Tarnisha running back to us.

"There's nothing back there," she said. "Just a bunch of shit."

"What...kind of _shit_." Dennis asked.

Dennis claims to be a Christian, though his behavior doesn't do the faith any favors. One thing to his credit, though. He very rarely cursed, and I never heard him swear. This is why it amused me when he got flustered and tried to act like he hadn't used profanity.

Steamrolling over his verbal faux pas, he quickly blurted, "What exactly did you see, Ms. Powell?"

Tarnisha shrugged. "Nothing much. Some empty rooms with a bunch of dead bodies, the back of the rooms with those shriveled horse things, mostly a lot of junk."

She dug one of those stone icons out of her jumpsuit.

"Oh, and I found _this_."


	8. Chapter 8: Gold Rush

A soft sun-like glow illuminated the chamber from an unknown source, likely a clever manipulation of surface light or a type of alien light bulb that could last for centuries without burning out. In addition to this, the team had also brought in a set of miner's Hover Lamps, providing a harsh blinding glare perfect for dust choked extraction sites.

Upon receiving Tarnisha's icon (actually, swiping it out of her hands), Dennis dragged one of these lamps closer, giving it a closer examination.

The icon looked very similar to the one we used outside. Same vaguely hexagonal shape, same material. The inlaid design looked different, but we didn't have to guess about its function.

Dennis placed the object on an appropriate looking socket, staring at me expectantly.

I hesitated, but knowing I really had no choice in the matter, I didn't hesitate long.

I placed my palm on the icon, waiting for it to sink in the wall and open the door.

At first, nothing happened, and I almost felt happy, smirking as I listened to Bruce complaining about how the "fucking tomb" was "screwing up his tablet." No bog mummy horses to chase around his bare breasted adolescent fantasies. Waah.

Gina muttered something about making me rub the icon across my pregnant belly, but I ignored it.

Just when I thought life was going to go back to normal, I hear a click, and the door starts making grinding sounds.

While we waited for the slow door to open, Tarnisha waved her colanders at Dennis. "You really think we're going to need these?"

"Not sure, he said. "Anything's possible."

The door reached its apex, revealing a long honeycomb shaped tunnel.

This tunnel consisted of three aisles, two narrow ones on one side, and a wide one in the middle, separated by two long Haddanium troughs covered by triangular glass (or rather, see through gold) enclosures reminding me of skylights featured on certain fancy office buildings.

At the darkened far end, I could see a gate flanked with a pair of white statues, feline in form. Golden waves danced on the walls and ceiling.

"Damn," Will breathed as he strolled in.

Bruce peered into one of the enclosures and let out a whoop.

"Gold!" he shouted, pointing at it. "A whole fucking river of it!"

He pressed his face to the glass, and I looked too.

It was exactly as he said. A whole river of the precious metal, strangely liquified as if heated a few thousand degrees, but leaving the glass fog free and cool to the touch. A golden sewer grate at one end spewed the liquid in endless waves, washing out a grating to God knows where.

Unsurprisingly, the first thing Bruce did was bang his fist against the transparent metal with all his might. I prayed he would break his hand.

"I believe this will help," Doctor Venn said, pushing a circular rune below the glass. "No sense delaying production with unnecessary bone fractures."

Bruce opened his mouth, but before he could ask for an explanation, he was silenced by the alien glass grinding open.

"I am becoming more fluent in the meanings of these symbols," Venn explained. "I made an educated guess."

The cover retracted backwards in stages like the armor on the Batmobile. Our team artist leaned over the lip, gazing in with greedy eyes.

He dug a stylus out of his pocket, sticking it in the liquid, then frowned as he pulled out a melted stick with an oozing glob of gold dripping down on his fingers.

He yelped when a glob hit his skin, dropping the whole stylus into the gold.

"Dammit!" he shouted. "How the hell do we get this shit out?"

"The same way jewelers make necklaces out of it," Dennis said calmly.

"Necklaces shit!" Bruce said. "I want a fucking bar!"

A skeletal claw reached out of the golden river, grabbing him by the collar of his jumpsuit.

In one quick motion, it yanked him down with a terrified scream.

A second later, there was no more screaming. His head had just gone gold on the Billboard Top 40.

"Bruce!" I screamed, horrified beyond all rational thought. Scumbag or not, he was a human being. That could have easily been me.

Even if the gold had different properties and melted in a cold liquid state, I was certain no one could survive that. I backed away in fright, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do.

"Pull him out!" Dennis yelled. "If you don't want a man's death on your conscience, I suggest you do it quickly!"

And then he starts tugging Bruce's shoulders. "Someone grab his legs!"

The first two to respond were Gina and Will. They acted quickly, pulling the poor victim's legs with all of their strength.

I heard a sickening pop, then all three fell to the floor clutching a gold splattered decapitated corpse.

"Jesus," Will cried.

Gina screamed.


	9. Chapter 9: White Sphinx

Bruce was dead. My coworkers laid the body carefully in the middle of the aisle, hands at his sides, to keep the claw from dragging the rest of his body in.

Gina was so shaken by the ordeal that she shivered by the entrance, trembling fingers holding a cigarette to her lips as she stared at a wall.

Doctor Venn touched the corpse, staring at it closely. "I'm afraid my medical services have little use in this particular situation. I can provide a detailed analysis of his medical condition prior to the decapitation if you wish..."

We stared at the android in shock. We all understood intellectually that he was a machine that had only an illusion of human emotion, but hearing him speak in such a detached clinical manner like this was jarring.

"That won't be necessary," Dennis said.

"Would you like to evaluate the body for organ donation?"

More shocked stares.

"Pass."

"As you wish, sir."

"I got the transponder!" I heard Rick calling from behind me. "You want me to call the CAT over here?"

He couldn't have picked a worse time to show up.

"I'll take it," Dennis said, looking annoyed.

When he handed the little black object to him, he suddenly noticed the body on the floor.

"God! what happened to Bruce?"

"Long story," Dennis said.

No one felt bold enough to give him an explanation. I think we all felt a little sick. Even Will, who tends to play the tough guy.

Rick backed away. "Is it going to be longer if I stay here, or do you have the guy in the brig already?"

"It's not a guy," said Tarnisha. "It's a thing."

She pointed at the gold. "In there."

Rick peered over the side of the trough and whistled. "What do you think happened to his head?"

"The thing probably ate it," she replied.

"An unknown lifeform has decapitated Mr. Hatch," Dr. Venn explained. "Markings on the neck are consistent with animal bites and clawings."

"What happened to safety protocol?" I cried as I stared at the boss man standing over the corpse. "Was that just a lot of bullshit?"

"Safety protocol doesn't entail planning for murderous ghouls lurking in golden rivers." He frowned at the body. "Or a lack of common sense."

We cringed at this statement, but Mr. Goldike always tends to talk with such authority that we don't argue or challenge him.

"Interesting," Venn said as he leaned over the river. "This vault has been sealed for centuries, and yet there appear to be lifeforms down there. Carnivorous, in fact, judging by our tragic incident. It begs the question of what they've been living on all this time."

"`Appear'?" Tarnisha cried indignantly. "`Appear'? Really? The thing pops up and eats Bruce's head, and you only think it `_appears_' to have lifeforms in it?"

Venn shrugged. "Such an advanced civilization may have created machines that simulate living beings, even carnivorous ones, in a fashion similar to my own manufacture."

Sighing, Dennis turned to face Tarnisha. "Hand me one of those sieves."

I watched with disgust as he took it from her, dipping it in the gold.

"You want to lose your head too?" she asked.

With seeming ease, he brought the colander back out again, heavy with the human head peering over the lip.

The layers of molten ore oozing down Bruce's forehead, ears and nose made me think of a caramel apple.

Tarnisha gawked at it in horror. "You're not seriously thinking about selling that, are you? I mean, who would buy it?"

"I know some people," Will muttered.

"Mr. Hatch's head is not for sale," Dennis snapped. "It's going to be buried with his body where it belongs."

For a moment, my respect for Dennis went up two notches, but it fell back down when he added, "Go get some small chunks of Hannanium and drop them in. We'll get some gold out of this yet."

"We should _throw_ them in," Will said. "So we can kill that thing."

"Why do I smell incense?" Tarnisha asked.

We all soon found out. Spotted Owl had returned, waving around bells and a feather fan with incense and a burning cigarette. The woman danced around in a circle, fanning smoke and incense all around as she half chanted, half sang something in Navajo.

The dance drew Gina away from the wall, breaking her out of her semi-catatonic state enough to follow her around.

"What are you doing?" Will asked. "The Chiefs chant?"

Spotted Owl stopped. "Where do you think the Chiefs got it from, asshole?"

Dennis crossed his arms. "I'd like to hear an explanation myself."

"She's the entertainment," Rick suggested.

"I'm sending away the evil spirits!" she shouted angrily.

She resumed her ritual.

"Admit it," Will said. "You're just making up those words as you go along."

"You want me to shove you into that gold?"

He raised his hands in surrender.

But then, as she attempted the rite again, he interrupted her by laughing. "Sounds like the Navajo version of _Holly Jolly Christmas_."

"You don't know what you're talking about. This ritual is very ancient. Passed down from my mother's grandmother, and her mother's mother before her."

"Leave her alone," Gina said. "Let her do her thing. It can't hurt any."

Tarnisha nodded. "If there's any place that needs an exorcism, _it's this place_."

Will smirked at Spotted Owl. "I didn't know you exorcised."

Now she was really mad. "You making a crack about my weight?"

"I think we have a communication problem," he muttered.

"Fuck you."

"Children..." Dennis scolded.

Rick pointed to the gate and statues at the far end of the tunnel. "Has anyone checked back there yet?"

Dennis waved him on. "Be my guest."

"Gold!" I heard a voice shouting.

I turned and saw Si peering greedily at the river.

"I wouldn't," I said. "Not until you see what happened to Bruce."

He stared at me with suspicion. "What...happened to Bruce?"

Si swore softly as he stared at the corpse.

"Damn." He shook his head. "How did this happen?"

"Long story," Dennis, Tarnisha and Will said in unison.

"We need to carry Mr. Hatch out for a proper burial," said Dennis.

Si frowned. "What about the gold?"

"What about it?" said Gina. "As long as that thing's down there, you're paying for the treasure with your head. We'll have to kill that son of a bitch before we can take anything out."

"Then how the fuck did you get Bruce's head back out?"

"Dennis got lucky. He's like _The One_ or something."

Si stared at the river of gold for a moment, then jerked back.

"You're not shitting! There's something down there!"

With that point firmly established, he, Dennis and Will picked up Mr. Hatch, and his head, carrying him out.

Rick, in the meantime, now stood staring at the statues at the end of the tunnel.

"They're moving!" he shouted. "Look at them!"

I hurried over, watching with unease and fascination as the statues slowly moved their paws.

Spotted Owl followed us, beating on a little drum and singing.

The statues were the strangest things I'd ever seen. Carved out of what appeared to be white marble, they stood about six feet in height, seven or eight if you counted the walls of Haddanium they sat upon.

They resembled sphinxes, but the weird king of winged sphinxes with head coverings you see in front of Masonic lodges and government buildings.

Stranger still was the fact these things had no faces to speak of, only toothy mouths.

Just like my dreams, I thought. Except they're white.

I watched as their large lion paws made gestures in a type of sign language I'd never seen, settling in a final position with one paw raised in a warning `stop' gesture while the other beckoned slyly to the door.

"It's just like those dragon statues in front of Buddhist temples," Rick said. "It warns the uninitiated to stay away while inviting others to enter. It's just a test of courage."

Smirking, he marched up to the door, examining the runes around its frame.

With shocking speed, the two statues turned their heads, distending their jaws, and a brilliant light erupted from their mouths.

Rick let out a scream as the light enveloped his body, filling the air with the smell of ozone and burning flesh.

His charred skeleton, swaddled in blackened rags of clothing, collapsed on the floor with a sickening hollow crunch.

I and my companion recoiled in horror.

"The spirits are angry that we disturb their slumber!" Spotted Owl cried. "We must not approach this grave!"

But a moment after she said this, the sphinxes stopped signing `'halt', making beckoning gestures with both paws.

Come inside, they seemed to be saying.


	10. Chapter 10: Initiate

"Your presence here honors the spirits," Spotted Owl said as she stared at the beckoning statues. "Perhaps they've witnessed your respect for their dead and their ancient dwelling."

I rolled my eyes. This wasn't the only time she indulged in superstition. Behind her back, people often called her Spot For A Brain, due to her strange behavior.

"You should probably obey them," she suggested. "Perhaps you will commune with the old gods."

"I'm not obeying a statue," I said. "Judging by what I've just seen, the moment I step over there, I'm going to be `communing with the gods' a lot faster than you think."

"I believe those are called `Seraphim,'" I heard Venn muttering beside us. "The design is vastly different from the ones in my image catalog. The substance they've been carved from is also unusual. The builders appear to have created a semifluid version of concrete melded to a biological organism, but it has mechanical elements like a machine."

"Are they alive?" I asked.

"No. They are a type of android. They seem remarkably well preserved for spending so many centuries in disuse."

Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I regret to inform you that your friend Rick Henderson is deceased."

I frowned at him in annoyance. "Gee. You think?"

Oblivious to the deadly `Seraphim', he knelt over Rick's remains, examining the bones. "Was this caused by the guardian statues?"

"No," I said. "He just started talking about being a super spy and I lit a match. Of course they caused it!"

Venn stood up, staring at the statues, and they appeared to stare back.

For a moment, the doctor's face went slack, and then he spoke to them. "I understand."

He turned around to face me. "We seek the two legged priestess who carries new life on the inside of her body. Send her forward, and take the two keys from the guardians' mouths."

His voice echoed loudly through the chamber like some ancient god.

"What's all this shit?" Gina asked, hands on her hips.

"The demon that just barbecued Rick is asking Ellen to stick her hands in its mouth," Spotted Owl said.

I stayed put. "How do I know it won't kill me?"

Instead of answering, Venn repeated, "Send the life bearing priestess forward to take two keys from the guardians' mouths."

"No," I said.

"Why is Venn talking like this?" said Gina. "Is he possessed?"

"Something like that."

The statues seemed to sense my hesitation, for they then told me, "A heart that is true will still the guardians' mouths. A double heartbeat a guardian cannot devour. But woe to that initiate whose heart weighs heavy. Even a double heartbeat will not save them from their fate."

"What are you waiting for?" I heard Si saying from behind me. "Do what the robot says!"

"Excuse me if I don't rush in and get made into crispy critters," I snapped. "I need to think."

"What's there to think about? You're the chosen one. Just grab the damn thing!" He was lurking behind me like I were a human shield. I felt like I was Dorothy on the _Wizard of Oz_, and he was the Cowardly Lion.

"I'll go when I'm good and ready!"

I stared at the strange figures in front of me. With the doctor frozen like he was, it looked like we faced three guardian statues instead of two. Everyone kept a healthy distance away from them, preferring to align themselves anywhere behind the line in the floor where I was standing.

That's it, I thought. Back to bed. If these guys want to play _Temple of Doom_, let them kill themselves in this little funhouse.

As I was turning to leave, I noticed Dennis standing in my path.

"Some time today, Ellen?"

"In case you haven't noticed," I said. "The last person that stepped up to that gate got vaporized."

"I _have_ noticed. Mr. Henderson will be missed." He said this indifferently, as if he'd been talking about the weather. "I also noticed that those things just promised to let you take the keys from their mouths without hurting you."

"As long as she doesn't have a heavy heart," Spotted Owl corrected.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "But I don't think she'll have much of a problem with that. I'm assuming it means a heart heavy with guilt. As long as they excuse your hatred of your coworkers, and fornication..."

"If you're so perfect," I said. "Why don't you do it?"

He didn't miss a beat. "And how do you propose to make me pregnant?"

Bastard.

What could I really do? Run away? I'd need a space suit and a rocket belt to get anywhere besides a rotten urine smelling cavern full of Hell's Lice.

"Where's Brett?" I said.

"I put him in the brig," Spotted Owl said. "Remember?"

"I want him here with me."

"I'm sorry Ellen," Dennis said. "I had to send a message to the crew. You do not strike a commanding officer and get away with it."

"Then I've got a message for you," I said. "Bring him out here, and you bring him now, or I'm not doing anything."

"I thought we were past this," Dennis said. "We both know the stakes. We've established the consequences."

I pointed to the pair of smoldering bones sticking out of the remnants of Rick's boots. "What about those consequences? Rick died for just getting near those things! Call me crazy, but if I'm going to die, I'd like someone I love to actually be here with me!"

We locked eyes for a moment, Dennis puffing through his nose, giving me that bull's stare.

"There are worse things than losing my baby," I said. "This tomb is full of them."

He frowned, and then I saw an expression on his face I had never seen before. Defeat, and sullen resignation. I suspect hell had frozen over.

He uttered his next order in a low growl, like some kind of beaten dog. "Bring Mr. Vickers back here."

Spotted Owl nodded and hurried away.

"Did they ask any riddles yet?" Si asked. "Because the answer to the one about the thing that has four legs in the morning and two at noon is-"

"Nothing simple like that," I interrupted. "They're promising not to eat me while at the same time threatening to tear me limb from limb."

"Only if she has a heavy heart," said Dennis.

Si clapped his hands. "Then you've got nothing to worry about!"

I saw Will lighting up as he approached the statue on the left side, wandering up the aisle along the wall.

The statue ignored him.

"Yo, Will!" Gina called. "You got a death wish?"

"It's only guarding the door," he mumbled with a cigarette in his mouth.

He smoked a bit, carelessly shaking ashes on the statue's paws. "Just a couple of funny looking bouncers."

I watched with horror as he jabbed the burning end of his cigarette into the statue's paw.

No reaction. He relit the cigarette.

"You got some brass gajones, Will," Gina said. "And no brain."

Will just chortled between puffs.

He reached up at the statue's mouth.

The head suddenly snapped at him, teeth slamming shut mere centimeters from where his fingertips had been, had he not pulled them away at the last second.

"Holy shit!" he cried in a cross between a gasp and a chuckle.

We all laughed, mostly because he was unharmed after playing such a foolishly dangerous game. If Venn hadn't been busy playing Alien Microphone, he might have made a comparison between Will's antics and a group of chimps teasing a lion.

"I don't get it," Gina said. "Why does everything here favor pregnant women?"

"I think it was something to do with hip structures," I said. "Maybe these aliens were...big, and female looking."

"If that's the case, Rhonda down in site N47 should be a god here."

I didn't reply. Rhonda was the joke of the whole operation. More than a few times I heard people saying that they would have sent her home due to the physical fitness requirement, but every time they tried it, her incredible weight was too much for the rockets. The humor had long gone stale.

"I heard you weren't much longer for this world," a voice said. A pair of muscular brown arms wrapped around me.

"Brett," I sighed.

I turned around and faced him. "I'm about to do something dangerous. There's a good chance that once I try to grab...whatever key is in that statue, it'll kill me."

He looked confused, so I explained.

"You don't have to do this," he said with worriment.

"Dennis isn't going to leave me alone unless I do. Neither will the others. Look where we've gotten so far."

Brett glared at Dennis, then looked away.

"I'm sorry, baby."

We just silently stared at each other.

I grabbed my boyfriend, holding him close. "I just wanted to tell you, no matter what happens, I love you."

He smiled. "I always suspected you did. I suspect I love you, too."

I heard Gina making gagging sounds, but I didn't care.

I leaned in and gave Brett a kiss, a long passionate one because I was certain it would be our last.

Dennis cleared his throat.

With a sigh, I pulled away, gave Brett a little goodbye wave, and marched up to the sphinx with the cigarette ashes on its paw.

A blue jewel sparkled within the threatening mouth of the statue. I raised my hand up to the teeth, all the while thinking this was a horrible mistake.

What does it mean to be heavy hearted? I thought as I nervously watched the thing's mouth opening.

And then it hit me. Slow!

As fast as I could, I shot my hand into the maw, closing it around the blue crystal.

It was not a crystal as much as it was a device, for I soon found it had a handle, like a flashlight, attached to its back portion.

I gave it a strong tug, but I couldn't get it free! It only clicked, like I'd pulled something loose.

I screamed as the statue's teeth closed on my wrist.

My screaming stopped when I discovered it didn't hurt.

Hearing a grinding sound, and cheering, I craned my head around the side of the statue and saw the door opening.

"What?" I cried. "Then what is the other statue-"

I shut up when I saw Dennis nonchalantly reaching into the statue on the other side like he were only changing a light bulb.


	11. Chapter 11: Beer and Chicks

The statue opened its mouth, releasing me from its grip. I whipped my hand away, leaving the crystal where it was.

Dennis, however, was pocketing his in his jumpsuit.

As the gate rumbled open, the guardian statues bowed their heads submissively, gesturing us inwards.

"Someone take care of Mr. Henderson's remains," Dennis said. "Get a broom and a shovel or something. Maybe one of those small ore trays. We'll bury him next to Mr. Hatch."

We all just stared at him, none of us really wanting to do it.

"Who's to say these things won't just vaporize us when we try it?" Gina asked.

Dennis slapped his hand on the moving door, nonverbally demonstrating the safety.

Sighing, Gina turned and marched away.

Without a word, Doctor Venn turned and ducked through the opening, leaving us staring into the darkened chamber beyond with impatient expectation.

Inch by inch, more of the chamber revealed itself, a glittering maze of sparkling ceiling to floor windows that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Dennis stooped and dragged his hoverlamp through the opening, causing the walls to glow with a thousand bright dots.

After his endlessly repeating image glanced around for a few moments, and the gate opened all the way, he waved us in.

I decided I wouldn't have a better opportunity to make a hasty exit.

Before anyone figures out that I'm needed again, before we discover another deadly trap.

I pushed through the cluster of team members.

Brett hugged me. "I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Me too."

We cuddled for a moment.

"Going to bed?"

"That was the idea," I nodded. "Unless you happen to have a molecular transporter in your pocket."

He made a show of digging for one. "Sorry baby. Fresh out."

I smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then hurried away.

The moment I set foot in the aisles between the rivers of gold, I heard Dennis yelling, "Ellen Ripley!"

I shuddered.

Dammit, I thought. Will this nightmare ever end?

I pretended not to hear, marching into the stables, closer to the exit. To my chagrin, I discovered that Si had already managed to saw quite a few of the golden windows out of their frames, allowing a previously contained sewage and cheese cracker smell to permeate the entire chamber.

"Hey!" I heard Si yelling after me as I quickened my pace. "Yo! Golden Child!"

I bumped into a dark haired figure clutching a broom, a tray and a dustpan.

"You heard the man," she said. "You're _The One_. Get your ass back up there."

Rolling my eyes, I walked around her.

Gina dropped her tools. "Hey! You deaf, abuelito? I was talking to you!"

I crossed my arms. "I don't see an army here, do you?"

She stared at me for a minute. "I don't need no army. I can take care of you myself."

Gina clenched her fists.

"You going to hit a pregnant woman?" I said.

"Only if you don't do what you're told," she growled.

Turning red with anger, I shouted, "Then you're no different from the rest of the lowlife sleaze that runs this base!"

"I don't give a flying fuck what you think of me, Ripley," she said. "But if you don't get your fat pregnant ass back where it's supposed to be, I swear to God I'll use that baby as my personal punching bag."

"You wouldn't dare," I said.

"Oh yeah?" she said. "Watch me."

When she swung her fist at my stomach, I dodged and hit her. When I retaliated, she hit me in the face.

"Fuck this," I said. "I'm not going to play Pregnant Heavyweight Boxing with you."

"Then get back in there and stop fucking around!"

Instead of replying, I ran out the entrance, putting my hand to the icon.

Gina tried to follow, but she froze when she saw what I was doing. "You wouldn't."

I gave her my coldest glare. "Wouldn't I?"

If Rick was right, I could just pull the damn thing out and shut them all in the tomb forever. Gina, Dennis, Si, Will, all of them. Let them have their gold and death traps.

I would have done it too, but then I remembered.

Brett.

If I shut the door on them, he'd be stuck in there too.

I called to him.

"Baby?" came the frightened sounding reply. "I think you'd better come back here!"

And then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'd like to keep my head on my shoulders!"

"Brett!" I cried.

Scowling angrily at Gina, I pushed past, running to his rescue.

Dennis, Will and Si had my boyfriend on his knees beside an open trough of liquid gold, tempting the creature in its depths by dangling his face right over the side.

When I got close enough to be grabbed myself, they pulled him out, pinning his arms down as he struggled.

"You haven't been dismissed," Dennis said.

Brett surrendered without a fight, and I grudgingly followed my boss into the next vault.

Spotted Owl tapped my shoulder, giving me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I tried."

I could see that she had. One eye was already swollen and puffy from where someone had hit her.

I shook my head sadly.

The maze I had seen from the gate had been an illusion. I instead found myself standing inside an ovoid arrangement of mirrors, windows reflecting reflections of windows reflecting more reflections to infinity. The hoverlamp floated near the far end, its brilliant light reflecting off the glass like a million suns.

"All right," I groaned as I stared at the boss. "What the hell do you want this time?"

"Such manners," he chided.

He pointed to a black obelisk with an intricate curving symbol carved into it. Doctor Venn stood behind it, waving his arms in curious fascination, as if he'd never seen his own limbs before.

With a sigh, I pressed my palm against the obelisk, hoping that nothing would happen.

The symbol glowed red, the obelisk sinking into the floor with a noisy rumble.

All around us, I could see second panes and dark indistinct shapes rising from the floor behind the mirrors that surrounded us. It seemed they were not mirrors in the truest sense of the word, but merely reflective windows.

I clutched Brett's hands as the objects rumbled higher, the obelisk appearing to serve the purpose of counterbalance, lowering to the floor in order to raise these shadowy things to our level, things that even now appeared to be moving.

"What do you think is back there?" Si asked.

"The ancient gods," Spotted Owl said. "Ancestor spirits."

Will shrugged. "I don't know. More mirrors?" he paused. "Or maybe a ninja assassin pretending to be a reflection."

Si laughed. "Space ninjas."

Will puffed the stub of a cigarette. "I saw it in a Kung Fu movie. All I'm saying is that maybe one of these mirrors isn't a mirror." He poked a nearby pane.

"You think they're going to pop out and kill us or something?"

Will tossed his cigarette butt aside. "It's not much of a stretch. Look what happened to Bruce."

My teammates all poked the walls, just to make sure. The obelisk was not so sunken in the floor that it looked like a little tombstone.

"Maybe it's like Freddy," Tarnisha said as she proved the last mirror solid. "Maybe it's like a real mirror, but he can still pop out and grab you because he's a ghost."

"Whoa!" Will blurted, pressing his hand against one of the mirrors. "They've got beer!"

I saw Si's mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What?"

"I don't believe what I'm seeing. It's real beer, and it's on ice. Pretty good shit. Colt, Budweiser, Corona, tequila..."

"Bullshit!" Si said, joining him at the glass.

He stabbed a finger at the glass. "Right over there. Next to the black chick in the lingerie."

"Now I know I'm dreaming," Si said. "A fucking bar!"

He paused. "You said there's a black chick?"

"You don't see her?"

Si shook his head. "Maybe she's hiding behind that blonde in the string bikini."

"She'd have to be pretty thin."

Out of curiosity alone, I crept up behind them, peering over their shoulders, but I saw nothing at all. Nothing but a faint wispy fog swelling inside a square enclosure.

Will apparently noticed my spying, for he turned around and smirked at me. "Want me to get you a beer?"

I scrunched up my face. "What, did you have a few already? There's nothing in there!"

He turned around, glanced at the reflection, and looked at me like _I_ were the crazy one. "You don't see it? The bar? The sexy chick in the white teddy?"

I grimaced. "No. I just see a couple delusional fools staring at fog in a mirror."

"You're just jealous," said Will. And he pressed his face against the glass.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I'm real jealous of a bimbo with Budweiser."

Si looked in with him for a moment, then frowned. "She's gone! The chick with the string bikini! She's gone!"

"She was never there," said Will. "I'm sure of it. But the black chick is definitely real."

"I still don't see her," said Si. "And now the beer's gone."

He backed away from the glass. "What is this crazy place?"

"More beer for me!" Will said.

He stared, almost drooling, for another minute, then suddenly blurted, "I think I see a way in."

What I saw next raised the hairs on my back and made my jaw drop in utter disbelief.

Without a word, Will just turned and casually stepped through a solid piece of gold-Haddanium composite like it were a beaded curtain.

"Hey!" Si cried. "Will!"

I watched as the young man reached into the fog, picking up a little tapered brown cylinder that looked more like an African drum than a beer can.

With a self satisfied laugh, he peeled open the fungus-like top, pouring an oily black sludge into his mouth like it were premium brew.

Kissing air, he accepted an invisible Cuban cigar and lit it with nothing, then stood smugly blowing smoke, beckoning to us.

"C'mon guys!" he called, his voice muffled behind the glass. "Swear to God, best damn beer I ever had."

He took a big gulp of sludge, then offered the drum in a toast, smoking air in a relaxed fashion as he took swigs of slime.

He cracked open a second drum.

"He's gone batshit," said Si.

"Oh, and _you would know_," I frowned.

"How the hell did he get in there?" Tarnisha said. "And what's that shit he's drinking?"

Will suddenly dropped the drum and clutched his throat, staggering backwards into a mirror.

Bending over, he vomited blood and bits of organ, shiny gray sperm shaped tapeworms wiggling out and dropping into the fog with the gobbets of blood.

I watched my feet, praying that those things didn't breach the glass.

"Will!" Si screamed, slamming his fist against the window.

His fist, of course, would have broken first.

With black tears pouring out his eyes, Will clutched his chest, coughing up blood as he staggered toward us.

His body slammed up against the glass as he desperately struggled to escape his little chamber of death, his hands smearing black sludge as he clawed the rigid surface.

Will spasmed, vomiting worms, blood and other disgusting things, slumping helplessly against the barrier.

In a sudden moment of remorse, he locked eyes with me, pressing his hand against the glass.

"You were right," he whispered.

He shot his friend a pleading glance.

"Si," he gurgled with a throat full of fluid. "Go home," he spat up blood. "Get out of here while you still can."

Clutching his chest, apparently in the throes of a heart attack, he slid down the mirror, disappearing into the fog.

No one ever saw him again.


	12. Chapter 12: True Desire

I checked the floor constantly, fearing the worms would come for us, but I didn't see any on the mushroom spore patterned tiles.

"This place is filled with evil spirits," said Spotted Owl. "I will bring offerings to appease them." And she hurried out.

"I don't know if we should stay here," Si said. "After what happened to Will, I think we're better off just trying to kill that thing and taking the liquid gold. I mean, if we dam that shit up with enough rocks, that thing will have no room to grab anyone. Let's just do that and leave Satan's funhouse alone."

"You may leave any time you wish, Mr. Spencer," Dennis said. "But you will forfeit any treasures found beyond this point."

This gave him pause.

"All right, everyone," Dennis shouted. "Stay away from the mirrors. We all saw what happened to Mr. Thorpe."

He turned and faced the exit, giving it a frustrated look.

After a long thoughtful pause, he gave Mr. Spencer a sideways glance, sighing in resignation. "Everyone clear out. We'll figure out what to do with this later. We've still got a river full of gold to extract."

"Do I still forfeit my treasures?" Si joked.

The expression on Dennis's face said, "Don't be a wise guy."

Gina, it would appear, had not `seen what happened to Mr. Thorpe', for I found her gazing through a looking glass on the opposite side of the chamber, her facial expression reflecting a sort of guilty pleasure.

As she stared into the empty fog, I saw her pointing to herself in surprise, as if to say, "Who, me?" to nobody.

When she noticed me watching, she gave me a sheepish grin, and I thought I saw her blushing.

"Oh my gosh!" she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "That girl in there, she's taking it all off!"

She returned her stare to the fog. "She is _so_ hot!"

I, of course, saw nothing.

I vaguely remembered Gina muttering something about a potty break a few minutes before Will died, so I guess she missed the whole subtext about the mirrors being full of deadly slime.

Dennis slapped a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Gina, listen to me. I know you're lonely, but what you're seeing in there isn't real."

Gina pushed his hand away. "She looks pretty real to me! Look at her! She's a fucking goddess! As soon as I can get past this window, we're going to give that chair of hers some serious exercise!"

Dennis gripped her shoulders with both hands, spinning her around.

"Gina. Listen to me."

When she cast a longing glance to her side, he slapped her.

"Gina. Look me in the eyes." She did. "Nothing in these mirrors are real. Think about it. This vault hasn't been opened for centuries. How could a woman get in there and still be alive?"

She sighed. "She found a back entrance. Or maybe she's a sexy alien."

"Yeah," Brett muttered. "Like that sexy alien that ripped Bruce's head off."

Ignoring him, Dennis said, "Gina, even if that were the case, why are you the only one who can see her?"

Gina pointed to me. "You saw her, didn't you?"

"No," I frowned. "Just a bunch of fog."

She glanced hopefully at Si.

"Oh yeah," he said. "She was fingering her tits and everything." And then he burst out laughing. "I didn't see shit."

It seemed Gina's delusions were not easily dispelled. "Yeah?" she said. "Well maybe she's a shape changing invisible alien who wants to have some fun."

Dennis locked eyes with her. "Gina. We just lost a team member who as absolutely convinced he saw ice cold beer and a woman. This is a tomb on an alien planet. There's no reason why beer or ice would exist here, and yet he was so convinced it was real that he stepped through that glass and something in there killed him."

"The asshole drank the blue Kool-Aid," Si agreed, looking like he were about to cry. "Poor bastard."

"That's ridiculous," Gina said. "That only proves he's an idiot."

"How is that different from you and your imaginary lesbian girlfriend?"

"She's not-" She looked away.

"Gina," he said. "I'm telling you this for your own good. We've already lost three good crew members and I don't want to lose a fourth."

She bowed her head, looking both ashamed and confused. Dennis sighed.

"Gina, I need you functioning at the peak of your capabilities." He pointed at the gate. "Go back to crew quarters. Take a rest."

When she didn't move, he added, "That's an order, Ms. Mendoza."

The expression on Gina's face was one of fear and intense hatred, but she obeyed, slowly marching out.

"It isn't real," I thought I heard Dennis whispering to himself when he glanced at a window. "She died ten years ago."

He quickly looked away.

That's when I noticed Tarnisha stepping through one of the mirrors. The last thing I heard her saying was, "My daughter."

"Tarnisha!" Dennis shouted, running over there, but it was too late.

"She's gone," he said.

Dr. Venn stepped into the center of the chamber, speaking in the booming god voice again.

"Let the wise understand: The path of true desire will lead to God, but woe to those who choose another. They shall reap their own destruction."

This statement gave us pause.

"True desire," Dennis muttered, staring at the mirror Gina had been so fascinated by. "Logically, they cannot occupy the same place as the false..."

The boss touched my arm. "Ellen, I know this is dangerous, but I want you to examine each of these mirrors and tell me what you see."

"Now wait a damn minute!" Brett shouted.

Dennis gave him a cold look that immediately silenced him.

I swallowed. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Dennis said.

"You're basically asking me to bare all my subconscious desires to you. Forgive me if I find that fucking unreasonable."

His hands clamped around my shoulders. "Ellen, there's a safe way through this, and I have absolute certainty that you're the key to all this. All I'm asking for is open communication."

"Fuck you," I said. "You're not my shrink."

He frowned and shook his head. "Look, Ellen. I...I don't care if you...censor it somewhat, but I want word pictures. Can you at least give me that?"

"Fine," I sighed, though I shuddered at the thought of the task ahead of me.

Whatever I saw, I resolved, I wouldn't linger in front of.

Two mirrors next to the entrance showed nothing at all, no matter how long I stared at them, and I told Dennis as much.

"Keep going," he said.

The next one held clothing.

Stylish, comfortable stuff, designed for my body size. I would be a queen in those outfits. I would kill for the chance to take even one of them back to crew quarters. There were so many shoes...no more foot pain. It would actually fit.

"Clothes," I said, walking on.

The next one held a mountain of gold ore and other precious stones. Some very nice trinkets that didn't look cursed, items that would help I and Brett buy a new house for us and the baby.

"Gold."

The next one held a gun on a metal stand.

How great a game changer that would be. I wouldn't have to be here, obeying Goldike's every whim. I could go back to bed, and if he got in the way, I'd kill him.

So tempting.

"Ellen?" Dennis called.

I didn't answer.

Brett wrapped his arms around me. "Remember, baby. It's not real."

I nodded. And then, to answer Dennis, I shouted, "It's a gun."

I suddenly noticed Spotted Owl lighting a cone of incense in front of one of the mirrors. She had on a wrinkled buckskin robe that I'd never seen before. I guessed she had it in mothballs all this time.

"Ancient spirits of this place, we beg your forgiveness for our intrusion into your sacred dwelling."

I rolled my eyes and kept going.

In the next mirror, I saw a reflection of Brett and myself kissing, tearing our clothes off, until we stood naked, oblivious to the boss and other people, and we walked hand in hand through a mirror containing a strange looking narrow bed with a curving canopy that made it look like a crescent moon. I could feel my legs beginning to tremble in anticipation.

Dennis snapped me out of it. "Ellen?"

"It's, uh, _love_."

"That's it!" he cried. "Go through that one!"

I didn't move. "I don't know."

He pushed Brett out of the way, giving me a shove.

I whirled around, glaring at him. "All right, all right! It's _making_ love!" I swallowed. "And I wasn't pregnant."

Dennis suddenly pulled me back, away from the glass. He locked eyes with me. "Didn't I say we had to keep communication open?" He held up a pair of clenched fingers. "You were _this close_ to death!"

"And _didn't I_ say you weren't my fucking shrink?"

But then I swallowed. "I'll try to make better word pictures."

Behind me, Spotted Owl was flinging a vial of blood on one of the mirrors.

"Ancient spirits, accept this blood sacrifice in respect to your most sacred dwelling. Preserve our lives, for we are but lowly mortals."

The next picture showed Dennis in some sort of alien torture device, unable to move. A simple looking console stood ready, inviting me to act.

Swallowing, I muttered, "Revenge."

Spotted Owl, in the meantime, was offering the third mirror a handful of corn meal as a sacrifice.

The next one over showed Dennis lying on the floor, dead, apparently from a heart attack.

"A corpse," I said.

"Let me guess," Dennis muttered. "It's mine, isn't it?"

I didn't reply, fighting down a smirk as I heard Spotted Owl leaving the next mirror an offering of ten dollars and forty seven cents.

"Is that ritual helping at all?" I called to her.

She faced me and nodded. "I just saw my father, and he thanked me for the grain."

Both Dennis and I stared at her, both of us seeming to be thinking the same thing.

"Spotted Owl," Dennis said. "Did you desire anything from your father, or anything else from what you've seen in these mirrors?"

"No sir," she said. "I have only desired to please the spirits here. If they have treasure, it is theirs. It does not belong to me."

Dennis rubbed his chin. After a thoughtful pause, he gestured for me to continue.

I expected the next mirror to show me some defense lawyers or sending Dennis before a jury or something, but instead I saw Troy, my ex boyfriend.

The last time I checked, Troy was on earth, and was sleeping with some bimbo who worked at a tattoo parlor.

But there he stood, smiling at me, looking sexy as ever.

Firm, muscular chest and arms framed in a designer t-shirt. Shorts showing off his well toned calves and thighs.

He stood in a narrow hallway in his condo, and I could almost swear I could smell his trademark crepes cooking in the kitchen nearby.

His Celtic tattoos were gone. As much as I missed him, that was the part that broke the spell.

"Ellen?" the voice said behind me.

"A man from my past," I said, moving on.

Brett looked horrified, angry even. "Baby, is there something you want to tell me?"

I gave him an apologetic smile. "It's ancient history. Don't worry about it."

I didn't want to tell him that I still frequently thought about how Troy's hands electrified my body, how he took me places with those hands, another things, that Brett, well...

"He's long gone," I said.

Past that mirror, I found a window displaying (ironically enough) a rocket belt, a chef cooking barbecue, my dead grandmother, now alive and well, and my cousin Robert, who had accidentally shot himself in the head while playing with a rifle a few years ago, also now alive and well.

While I briefly considered the notion that being reunited with my lost loved ones would be a `true desire', I considered the idea both selfish and creepy. Dennis, to my great relief, agreed.

A little boy waved at me from the next mirror.

Just looking at him told me he was mine.

The caramel colored skin.

My angular face and cheekbones.

Head of curly black hair like the one Brett always shaved off.

The eyes.

I knelt before the glass, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"You're my son, aren't you?" I cried.

He nodded.

I chuckled softly. "You're beautiful."

The boy wordlessly pushed the mirror aside as easily as if it were the sliding glass door on a house.

He came forward and hugged me.

"I'm going to take you away from here," I whispered. "I'm going to bring you home, back to earth. Just you, me and Brett. We might not end up with much money, but we'll be a family. We'll take care of you, no matter what."

"I don't believe what I'm seeing," Dennis said. "Is anyone else seeing this?"

"I sure am," Brett said. "And if he's what I think he is..."

He scooped the boy in his arms.

"I'll be damned," said Si. "What the fuck is a little boy doing down here?"

I glanced at Dr. Venn, but he was still in puppet mode.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess he's a projection about my wishes for the baby, or he's a projection of my baby's consciousness. Either way, he's beautiful."

"True desire," Dennis muttered. "Ask him if there's a way past this room, or if there's a treasure vault in here somewhere."

"Honey," I said, stroking the boy's head. "Where did you come from?"

The boy pointed at my swollen belly, making me laugh. He definitely had Brett's genes.

"All right, wise guy. Tell me this. Is there a room beyond this one?"

He silently nodded, pointing to the open mirror.

"If we go in there, will we die?"

He shook his head, then wiped his nose.

"The kid just popped out of a mirror," Si muttered. "Why should we believe anything that comes out of that little creep's mouth?"

No one had an answer to that. I myself was only going by motherly instinct.

"If we go in there," I said. "Will we be able to leave again?"

He nodded.

"Okay," I said. "I really shouldn't trust you, but, caring for you, being a parent...that's the truest desire I have. You have to give me credit for that."

"You will not be harmed, Ellen Ripley," the boy said in a cold alien voice. A chill ran down my back.

"Lead the way," I said.

Brett set the boy down, and we cautiously trailed him into the room beyond the mirror.


	13. Chapter 13: Throne Room

The child led us to the rear of the foggy claustrophobic little box, sliding open another window.

Behind this, we came to a dimly lit tunnel running parallel to the opening. A wall lay directly ahead.

I checked my boots and pant cuffs for worms, but saw none.

When I saw the slight brown faced figure with the cornrowed head, I nearly screamed, especially when I noticed the little girl accompanying her.

"Tarnisha!" I cried. "I thought you were-"

She shook her head. "I guess I got lucky."

She frowned at the girl. "This isn't my baby, you know. She just looks it."

A snake tongue rapidly popped out of the child's mouth, twitching around and sliding back, the process repeating every couple seconds like a true reptile.

She didn't blink, really. A pair of nictating eyelids dropped down every minute or so, which wasn't quite the same.

My son was doing something similar, and when he rested his head of Brett's chest, I could see gills expanding and closing on the boy's neck.

He pointed to a bend in the tunnel to the right. "We should go that way."

I could see snake fangs when he talked.

"Okay," I stammered. "As long as it's safe."

He responded by snuggling himself more comfortably in Brett's arms.

"Mommy, I'm tired," said Tarnisha's daughter. And so she picked her up, allowing her to ride piggy back.

Dennis, Doctor Venn, and what remained of the team followed behind, trailing us down the tunnel as we wound our way down another bend, which straightened and broadened out as we hit the next section of tunnel.

The passage ended in what I could only describe as a `throne room,' a large square chamber lined with ornate pillars, gold statues, and gorgeous silk hangings that seemed oddly untouched by the damaging effects of time. Gold torch stands flamed to life as we entered.

"Holy shit!" Si was saying behind me. "Pay dirt!"

In the center of this regal display of wealth and power, I saw a `throne' of sorts, flanked by white marble guardian statues, each bearing strange ax-like weapons. They looked like men, but taller, and they had no faces.

The throne itself was even stranger, for it wasn't designed as a seat, but rather a bench, with a design reminding me of pictures of the Ark of the Covenant, and on this bench there sat an enormous gray egg.

Two large walls framed this bench, each with a sort of gutter ending at the egg's front, and there was a long shelf in front of the egg, similarly guttered, ending in a shallow bowl.

I stepped back and suddenly noticed the decorative stonework behind this thing had been carved into a massive head, one resembling those sphinxes we'd seen outside.

As I stood gaping at this impressive set of artifacts, the faceless guards simultaneously dropped to their knees, bowing before me.

"Oh my God, what the hell am I holding!" I heard Brett shouting.

"It's an alien," I said, spinning around. "I thought with a tongue like that..."

I couldn't finish. "Oh God."

Instead of a little boy, Brett was clutching a bog mummy. He looked like he wanted to hurl it to the ground, but his parenting instinct, defying logic, wouldn't let go, so he instead set the thing gently on the floor.

Spotted Owl knelt in front of it, touching it with her feather fan and waving smoke around. "May the spirits grant you safe passage into the next life."

When Tarnisha noticed her baby bog mummy, she screamed.

Doctor Venn marched behind the egg, raising his hands like a priest blessing a sacrament. "The Chosen One will bring her offspring forward and place it before our God as an offering."

"In other words," Si chuckled. "For refunds on condoms, insert baby."

I glared at him.

"Someone's got a mummified brain," Brett said. "She hasn't even come to term yet."

Then, noting my uneasy glance, he added, "Assuming we were that crazy."

As if in response to Brett's objection, Venn continued. "The Offering Bearer shall rest at the appointed place until the offspring is ripe."

He gestured to the right side of the room, where I could see a couch, a cluster of stone chests, and a door.

"I think we should do what it says," Dennis muttered.

"Frankly," I said. "That's a fucking idiotic idea. First of all, I'm not going to sacrifice my baby. Secondly, there's nothing to eat, no water, and nowhere to bathe."

"A god who asks for a child to be slaughtered is not to be trusted," Spotted Owl agreed.

Venn pointed a pair of blessing fingers at the couch. "Gifts of sustenance and comfort have been provided for your stay."

"Yum," Si joked. "Thousand year old food!"

Hearing a creaking sound, I turned and saw the chests opening.

I marched over there, more out of curiosity than anything else.

One of the chests was full of something that looked like unwrapped orange candy bars. They had a strong cinnamon odor, but I would have rather died than eat one.

Another chest held robes. They were pretty, like the wall hangings. I didn't mind _those_ as much, but I feared they might hide deadly alien parasites.

There was also a new addition, or maybe something so plain that I just didn't notice it. A pair of baptismal fonts, or something resembling one, but taller. One was full of something like blue Powerade, the other water. I refused to touch that, too. Not after what happened to Will.

I saw blankets and pillows in a third chest, though I wasn't too wild about sleeping there, either.

The door slid open, and I could see a waterfall draining down into a pool. Tempting, but I knew it probably had a school of piranha inside.

With my hands on my hips, I gave Dennis a weary sigh. "We've found everything there is to find," I said. "Can I go now?"

"I'm not sure I agree," he said, then he searched the chests, the walls, anything that might lead to treasure.

Si walked up to the egg, looking it over.

"So this is a `god.'"

He knocked on its side, rubbing his hand across its shell.

"This is some stupid shit. Who in their right mind worships a fucking egg?"

A black insect-like claw burst from the shell, wrapping its talons around Si's throat.

For a split second, I saw a dark shape emerge, and a second claw joined the first, pulling him into the egg.

Si screamed as the thing sliced him open like a beef carcass, ripping out his internal organs until he collapsed bleeding in the sacrificial gutters.


	14. Chapter 14: The Cult

The creature, for the time being, seemed to be too busily occupied with devouring Si to pay us any attention, but I wasn't about to wait around for it to get interested.

"Strategic re-consolidation of forces!" Dennis barked. "Everyone get out!"

We crept away from the thing warily, eyes fixed on it like we were sneaking around a mountain lion.

When he noticed us not moving fast enough, he cried, "If you value your life, get out, and get out now!"

I wasted no time fleeing the chamber, dashing down the corridor to the sliding mirror.

Dennis shoved us out of the way, pushing the mirror open, bolting to the interior one, apparently ignoring any thoughts about mummy children, worms or Chosen Ones.

He was unharmed, and soon had the interior mirror open, bolting through the entry gate, where he waited impatiently for us to get out.

Soon we were all assembled. Me, Brett, Spotted Owl, Gina, Tarnisha and Bosshole.

Seeing us all present and accounted for, he pulled out the blue gem, reaching into the mouth of the guardian statue it belonged to.

"What are you doing?" I said.

He made motions like he were screwing the gem back in. "What does it look like? That thing needs to stay there until it can be safely neutralized."

"What about Doctor Venn?" I said.

"Doctor Venn is a machine. I seriously doubt that thing will find him edible."

He pulled his hand back out, and the statue sat up on its haunches, making a swallowing motion.

On the other statue, he just reached in and twisted something.

An angry grinding noise told me that it worked. The door slowly lowered.

I sighed. "So what happens if my water breaks and I need a doctor?"

"Ellen," Dennis said as he stared at the gate. "Have you ever been to a wildlife preserve?"

"What?" I said. "No."

Dennis make a tsk sound. "A pity."

He cleared his throat. "As a child, I went to one, and a lion tried to chew our tires. He didn't like the taste."

"What happened to the tire?" I asked.

He didn't reply.

The gate was near the floor when I saw the chunky arms and legs of the good doctor sliding out with surprising speed.

"Remind me to never do the limbo with him," Gina muttered.

I smirked. With all this death around me, it was good to be amused by something, anything.

The android rose to his feet, brushing himself off. "My programming appears to have experienced an abnormality."

I rolled my eyes. "That's one way to describe it."

0000000000

"With the assistance of Extraction Technician 91781 Ellen Ripley, we were able to open a burial vault, nicknamed `Rey Del Muerte' by crew, containing two reservoirs of liquified gold, as well as several panes of hybridized gold-silicate `glass'. We discovered other valuables further in, but toxic gas and cave-ins have prevented us from retrieving them."

_\- Dennis Goldike, Mining Supervisor_

_Message to the Ophir Initiative_

0000000

Ages passed since I once again detected the presence of large meat.

The first foolhardy creature I devoured the moment it touched my cocoon. It had gills and fins, and the body structure was unusually wide hipped. I consumed every piece, then lay in wait for the next one to arrive.

Slowly regaining my strength, I ate three more of these creatures, and rested.

Hunters came, attempting to destroy me, but they were of the same species as the others, with tender meat.

At some point, gorged on my victims, I lay dull and stupid in my cocoon.

When I at last stirred and regained my senses, I discovered the creatures had placed an offering of one of their horse things before me. It was unalive, but I wasn't choosey. After all, I'd been starving for a millenia.

This pattern of gifts persisted for several days.

While I fed, strange fin bearing creatures in blue silken robes bowed before me, waving around smelly burning things, chanting things I didn't understand.

As I rested, bloated from the meat, a group of them rolled me onto a length of fabric stretched across two poles, and I was carried into a large square structure and laid upon an altar, surrounded by shiny gold things.

Still resting, I listened as these `priests' argued with one another endlessly, one saying I was a god, the other saying I wasn't.

One priest stabbed the other, and his body was stripped and laid before me.

That was when the building began.

Great stoneworks that were said to resemble me.

Large bastardized versions of my son made of a large moving stone material.

The feedings continued.

One can only sit in a dark gray room so long without getting restless, even when you're getting fed every day. Besides, I had _other needs_ they were not aware of.

_The lust_ was returning.

Much to the horror of my worshipers, I left my throne, wandering outside.

I raced through the forests, strode boldly through primitive villages, preying on the young, the old, the fat, then thin. My victims looked promising, but their bodies rejected my eggs. The young came out sickly and emaciated, dying hours after birth.

I made numerous attempts, but my heart was broken.

The natives lured me back to the throne with songs, and clusters of young victims clad in colorful robes. They were let loose around this `temple', instructed to run convincingly to appease the god.

This entertained me enough to draw me in, making me forget my heartbreak, and soon I lay bloated on the throne again.

This was when I noticed the gates.

They built strange structures, like the chamber of mirrors, and I found I wasn't able to move around freely as I once was.

Still, the offerings continued, robed wide eyed males and females that presented differing offerings of incense and meat, attempting communication until they realized I only desired the meat of their bodies.

They thought they had me figured out. Special costumes were devised, elaborate rituals, special body decoration, all based on the traits of those who survived, but none of them had any real significance.

They weren't blessed by any god.

The survivors just happened to be good at hiding.

They weren't protected by their charms and feathers and talismans.

They were protected by me not being hungry.

Their mystical worship of pregnancy stems from me being squeamish.

It was the first time I had ever tried to eat a pregnant female. Imagine tearing into a meal and finding a smaller creature squirming around inside that creature.

The visual, at first, disgusted me so bad I nearly vomited.

It took a great deal of effort for me to acquire a taste for them, but I eventually did, learning to enjoy it like caviar.

But the superstition remains to this day.

When the riots struck, I got livelier prey. Some attempted to kill me, which added the thrill of danger to the otherwise dull sport.

The survivors, of course, spurned a new formulation of the religion built up around me, and gnome-like priests, only previously glanced at the rear of the clusters of sacrificial victims, were thrown to me as prey.

Following this came a lean period, as the new regime disapproved of sacrifices. A pair of priests brought in blood offerings, but I ate them instead.

Disease struck. A rotting plague that liquified internal organs and filled them with worms, rendering my victims inedible. These were sent to me, perhaps, with the thought of killing the god.

I began to distrust these fat wide hipped creatures.

Since I now had no way of escaping my chamber, I again retreated into my cocoon, awaiting that time when the disease passed and I could feed again, possibly even reproduce.

The immense tremblings of the ground, and the silence that followed, spoke of wars and death, and the strangle hold of plague.

I slept for centuries.

So sound was my slumber that I didn't notice that time had passed until I heard a sharp knock on my cocoon, and heard the coarse voice loudly saying "Hoodayffukuorsipsneg."

I feed once more.


	15. Chapter 15: Orange Bars

The base didn't have a weapons locker, per se. We only had a gray concrete store room, filled with mining tools, machine parts, and computer equipment.

We glanced at our surroundings, watching as Dennis rummaged through cargo containers, pulling out various sharp looking objects. Not much remained of our original crew.

Gina sat in a swivel chair, picking pieces off of one of the armrests. Brett stood by my side, arms crossed, glaring impatiently at the boss. Tarnisha was turning a gold sieve over in her hands, attempting to open the holes with an awl. It didn't work.

Spotted Owl had returned to quarters, obviously overwhelmed by the day's ordeal.

Tarnisha tossed the awl aside. The colander was beyond repair. "Dennis, are we going to have a funeral for Rick and the others?"

"Not yet," came the reply. "Until that creature is neutralized, there's no point. We'll only end up burying more by the time this is over."

"Seriously?"

Dennis put one hand on his hip. "Ms. Jenkins, if you want to put together a small memorial service in honor of our fallen comrades, no one's stopping you. But if it were me, I'd wait until I knew for certain that we wouldn't have any more deaths."

"Gee," I said. "You're a real humanitarian."

Dennis didn't respond.

Brett smirked. "Let me guess. In your last job, you were..._an insurance agent_."

"What I did for a career prior to this is of little importance, Mr. Vickers. Right now I am the commanding officer on this operation, and that's all you need to know."

The room fell silent save for the sounds of people digging in containers.

"Do we have any rifles?" Gina asked. "Machine guns?"

Dennis shook his head, unlocking a cabinet with a palmprint scanner. "This is a mining operation, Ms. Martinez, not a military outpost. The majority of the planets we encounter are devoid of life. That's why weaponry has never been a concern when sending rovers to Mars or other planets."

"That's pretty well self explanatory," said a bulky plump faced figure as he rummaged through a container full of wires, circuitry boxes and gears. "Basic economics. This isn't _Star Wars_."

That was Wes Gordon, our electronics wizard. With his face and long black hair the way it looked, he would have made a good extra for a Rob Zombie film, maybe something about serial killers. "The thing I don't get is why we couldn't requisition at least one weapon to be added in one of our supply shipments. It can't weigh any more than that vacuum cleaner we ordered last year, or that inoperative grandfather clock."

"A crewmember with a gun is ten times more threatening than an alien lifeform," Dennis said as he stared into the cabinet. "On planets where there isn't any life, shooting other crewmembers is the only thing you can do with one."

"What about target practice?"

"What's the point of that? There's nothing to shoot. You can't murder anyone with a clock."

Wes chuckled. "Actually, there are several ways to murder someone with a clock."

Dennis turned around, frowning at Wes with annoyance. "What I mean is, it's not as easy as a gun."

Our tech guru shook his head and grinned. "Clocks don't kill people, people kill people."

"How are the cooks killing Hell's Lice if we don't have any guns?" Gina asked.

Dennis pulled out a pole with a claw at one end, demonstrating how it opened and closed. A button click caused a blue spark to dance from the ends.

"They clamp that thing on the lice, and then they stab it to death with a knife," said Wes. "Not the most effective method in the world, (excuse me) _in the universe_."

"It doesn't require bullets," Dennis said. "Which is not only safe but economical."

"As long as the thing you're trying to kill will stand still long enough for you to shock it," Brett said.

Dennis pulled out another tool, a rifle like device with framing and coloration like a Nerf toy. "Shock rifles. Shoots an electrified dart into the animal."

"Those are great," Wes said. "Or rather they would be great if you could actually increase the voltage, or if we had more than ten rounds."

Dennis handed the rifle to Gina, who set about testing the trigger and pump action loading mechanism. It was empty, of course.

"Twenty five rifles and only ten rounds." Wes rolled his eyes. "You know, I actually ordered ten additional rounds to be shipped here. Guess what they sent me instead. No really. Go on. Guess." He laughed derisively, shaking his head. "So then I ordered ten more rounds. What did they send me? More rifles! Thank God I didn't order a hundred!"

"What do you suggest, Mr. Gordon?" Dennis asked with a frown.

Wes shrugged. "Give me your permission to quote-unquote `_deface company property_,' and I'll have something ready in twenty four hours."

Dennis looked skeptical. "What did you have in mind."

"Remember that scene from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ where they shot silverware and clothesline out of the cannons?"

We all stared at him in bafflement, causing him to chuckle.

"It's the ultimate classic old movie, and nobody watches it!" He shook his head and sighed. "Give me twenty four hours and I'll cook something up that will make your space monster wish it had never been born." He paused. "On a related subject, I'm going to need a few gallons of your rock dissolver, some batteries and a couple cigarette lighters."

Dennis nodded. "You get to work. I'll assemble a team. The rest of you are dismissed."

He patted me on the back. "Excellent work today, Ellen. I'm putting you under consideration for a class upgrade."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Now get some rest. You deserve it."

The funny thing is, I actually valued the rest more than the promised pay increase.

I returned to my quarters and climbed into bed.

"Ain't that some fucked up bullshit?" Brett said as he joined me under the covers. "Four people in one day. All so Dennis can explore Satan's little torture chamber."

"I know," I said. "We can't even give these people a decent funeral. Webster's needs to come up with a word stronger than `asshole' to describe people like him."

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm not even sure `bastard' fits the bill." He rubbed his bruised face. "I can sure say one thing for him, though. The dude throws a mean punch. It's like he's been practicing."

"I don't see how he would find the time!"

"Me neither. But it makes you wonder. I guess if you don't have any friends..."

And then the trauma and the weight of all those deaths overwhelmed me, and I was crying into Brett's chest.

I know those men were dicks, but they had their moments, and now they were gone forever. No more rowdy joking to liven up the common room. They were all gone.

Brett rubbed my back, wrapping his arms around me as he muttered, "There there, baby."

I drifted off to sleep.

My eyes flew open, and I found myself staring up at a stone ceiling, and walls bedecked with silken hangings.

I looked down to discover myself sprawled on the couch in the alien throne room, dressed in a blue robe sprinkled with orange crumbs.

I sat up with a start, and when I did, a crown tumbled from my head, landing on a pillow.

I brushed crumbs from around my mouth.

Hearing a tinkling sound, I looked under the couch and found a goblet with a dab of blue liquid in the bottom. The absence of puddles indicated it may have been swallowed rather than spilled.

I picked it up to examine it, then dropped it again.

Any minute now, the worms or whatever would be liquifying my internal organs. I was sure of it.

Trembling, I rose to my feet. The bare stones felt odd to my bare skin. I guess, if I weren't deceiving myself, the word I would have used was `good,' as was the cinnamony flavor in my mouth, and the metallic citrus tang of the blue substance.

I shakily stumbled over to the throne where Si had met his demise.

The gutters were now dry as a bone, and an orange candy bar lay in the basin, immersed in blue liquid.

I don't know why I did it, but I picked the bar up, taking a nibble.

The snack, saturated in the refreshing substance, tasted delicious, like spice cake dipped in raspberries.

Realizing what I had just done, I quickly dropped it, hoping I wouldn't be sick. God knows how many I had already eaten.

I had to get out of there. I just had to.

I didn't see my boots anywhere, so I decided I would have to brave the worms barefooted.

I hurried back down the hallway to the mirror, hoping I wouldn't need the bog mummy to get out.

My face looked strange in the reflection, my eyes a solid black in black color.

Thinking it a trick of the mirrors, I slid the glass open, hurrying to the opposite end of the box. That mirror came open as well.

When I returned to the middle chamber, I saw movement, and as much as I tried to ignore the strange images in the reflections, I couldn't help but notice they all contained kneeling figures.

All kneeling to me, like some kind of queen or emperor.

Why were they kneeling? I had no desire to be worshiped!

The exit, of course, was closed, an impenetrable Haddanium wall standing in between me and freedom.

I searched around the stonework, but saw no way to open it.

I was trapped.

Dennis, I thought. The boss man had replaced the jewels, sealing me in forever.

Damn you, Dennis.

"No!" I cried, beating on the door.

My voice raised to a scream as I slammed my fists against it, over and over, until they were bruised and bloody. "No no no no no!"

I slid to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as I curled into a fetal ball.

"No..."

That was when I noticed my son pointing to a stone torch.

A closer examination showed me it wasn't a torch at all, but a mechanical lever.

I sat up in my bed, drenched in sweat.

I wasn't in the tomb at all. I was still in crew quarters.

It was all a dream!

Brett was gone, probably off to...

"No!" I cried, jumping to the floor.

For a moment, I thought that maybe they would have a need for me, and not do a foolish thing like going back into the chamber with stun guns without my aid, but then I remembered how Dennis unscrewed the gem from the statue, and how Si had scratched an arrow into the Haddanium next to the correct mirror a few minutes before his death in the throne room.

"No," I moaned.

Well, I thought. It's not exactly my fault. And I don't have to be there.

I frowned as I noticed something lumpy under my feet.

Moving my left aside, I looked down and saw something I wished I hadn't seen.

It was one of those orange bars, and a bite had been taken out of it.

I shuddered, throwing it against a wall with a scream.

What was that thing doing in my room? Who put it there? Did I actually eat it? And if I didn't eat it, who did?

Composing myself, I decided to take a shower and wash this nightmare off of me. Maybe my brain would start working and I'd find out some answers. One thing's for certain, it was better than going down to that vault.

Anything was better than _that_.

When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, a pair of shiny black irises and corneas stared back at me.

I pulled my lower eyelids down and found the coloration uniform.

What is wrong with me? I thought.

But after I blinked a few times, the strange coloration was gone.

I had to be dreaming, I thought. I've heard of people sleepwalking and dreaming standing up. That has to be what happened.

I splashed water on my face and undressed.

The moment I opened the shower, I heard someone screaming.


	16. Chapter 16: Battle

It wasn't the type of scream a person would make when doused with icy water, or finding a spider crawling up their pant leg. It was the agonized scream of someone dying. Female, by the sounds of them. The noise was followed by cries of horror, confused yelling, and Dennis barking orders.

I wasn't sure if I should hide or investigate.

Surely, no good would come from me getting close to the source of the disturbance, but I couldn't say with absolute certainty that I'd be any safer where I was. What good would it be to hide under my bed like a scared child if..._whatever it was_, smelled me anyway?

I was only assuming that the thing from the egg in the throne room had escaped. On account of a dream.

I didn't have the robe.

My eyes looked normal.

I really had no proof that anything in the dream had taken place except that orange bar, and I might have put that in my pocket for one of our scientists to look at, and forgotten about it. Unwise, yes, but I could have done it. It wasn't like I intended to eat it.

While awake, anyways.

You can argue a person wouldn't forget a thing like that, but I've locked my keys in vehicles more times than I can count, and accidentally took two days of medication in one setting before, so it's not entirely improbable.

Unless someone put it there.

Either way, it proved nothing.

They could be screaming about the thing under the gold river. After all, they did intend to bury it in rocks. Maybe it got out.

I got dressed and hurried out of crew quarters, checking the hallway beyond.

Our base consists mostly of naturally occurring caverns, caverns formed by explosive charges, and a type of concrete construction teams made from minerals found on site. For this reason, the hallway ceiling has a vaulted look to it, and has a grating beneath it to capture falling stalactites.

Crew quarters faced the medical bay and the science department. I saw Tarnisha running out of the former with a bag full of medical supplies. She was heading right, in the direction of the vehicle bays and mineral extraction equipment.

The hallway was otherwise deserted. It seemed that everyone in the base had congregated at the far end, shouting and waving around rocks, pieces of metal, any weapon they could get their hands on.

To the left and down the corridor parallel to the cafeteria lay the evacuation pods. I was tempted to use them.

The trouble was, they weren't designed to support pregnant people, and you'd end up floating, cryogenically frozen, above the planet for months before anyone responds to your distress beacon. That is, if it doesn't lose its pathetically low orbit and crash back on the rocks while you waited.

We used to have a transport ship, but it was already a million light years across space, transporting tenured crew people back home.

I turned right, cautiously creeping towards the source of the noise.

It was a mob. It reminded me of the informal boxing match Si and Robert from Team A17 pulled a month ago. Elbow to elbow with people shouting for attacks, and cheering...though in this case I mostly heard swearing.

I pushed past a skinny black twenty year old and an older man with Japanese style tattoos running up and down his arms, tripping over the corpse of a fat Mongolian man with a ragged bloody chest wound in the process.

A brown hand braced me before I fell.

"Careful, señorita!" a voice yelled over the din. "It is mucho dangerous!"

Jorge. I could recognize that voice anywhere.

The little Mexican had a makeshift spear fashioned out of a lockblade knife and a piece of rebar carefully braced against his armpit as he helped me regain my balance.

A cluster of people scattered backwards as a dark shape cut through the mob, snarling and clawing like a caged tiger. Whatever that thing was, it didn't look gold.

In my absence, Wes had modified the toy-like stun rifles with nasty looking attachments. The black beast fairly bristled with glistening kitchen implements, steak knives, forks, and chunks of rebar.

Apparently they had only succeeded in pissing it off.

A couple men stepped in the breach, firing their stunners.

"Why can't we use explosives?" I heard Tarnisha yelling.

"We'll bring the roof down on top of us!" Dennis yelled back. "We'll compromise the whole operation!"

"News flash, asshole! It's already done been compromised!"

The creature roared, and someone screamed in pain. I couldn't see what had happened, but it sounded bad.

"Get some milk or bleach over here!" Dennis shouted. "It acts as a base to counteract the acid!"

"Acid?" I repeated in bafflement.

"Sí," Jorge said. "Este bestia negra..." He pointed at the snarling creature. "It spit saliva caliente del fuego. You should go, señorita. It is not safe."

The air was thick with ozone from the taser-like devices the crew kept firing, but the beast appeared to be impervious to such attacks.

"They say it come out of a small egg," Jorge breathed. "But I do not believe it. It is bigger than puma from Brasil!"

"Craig! Glen!" I heard Dennis shouting. "I want Nitro 9 canisters around the cavern mouth!"

"I thought you said-"

"We need to wall this thing off until we can find a way to kill it. Marlene! Steve! Make a distraction so they can get into Equipment Bay 30!"

The room erupted in a chaos of yelling and growling noises. I watched in horror as a pasty faced kid with glasses stumbled backwards in a spray of blood, collapsing at my feet.

I retreated half a yard, and to my relief Gina, and Israel, the tattooed guy, stepped in to drive the creature elsewhere.

"This is not a good place for you, Señorita Ripley," Jorge said. "El Chupacabra no es your friend."

I nodded, making steps towards the crew quarters.

I stopped. "Wait. Where is Brett?"

He looked blank for a moment. "Su novio?"

I nodded.

"Ah." He frowned at the crowd. "You can see it is not easy for to find anyone, señorita. Maybe you go and I tell him you are safe? Sí?"

I sighed. "I guess you've got a point."

That's when I notice a trim muscular brown figure flailing at the creature with a nasty looking morning star crafted from a chain and bits of metal debris.

"Brett!" I called.

Not the best thing to do during a fight.

My boyfriend, of course, turned his head to look, and the creature used this opportunity to knock him to the ground.

He screamed, but I couldn't see what was going on, due to Wes, Tarnisha, and two others prowling around in front of me with weapons.

I pushed past Leroy from the kitchen staff (the hippie stoner was brandishing a meat cleaver), but I nearly got trampled by the chaotic movement of the mob.

People yelled and screamed while the animal shrieked

I feared Brett was gone for good.

"Brett..." I said with tears brimming in my eyes.

"You mind not standing on my leg?"

"Brett!"

He was right behind me. I thought he was another corpse.

With all the cuts and slashes across his body, he already looked like one.

I quickly helped him to his feet, shoving people away to make room, and we staggered to a clear spot in the crush of bodies.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"It ain't good," he wheezed, probably from a crushed rib cage or something else equally bad. "But the fucker didn't cut anything vital. Probably need stitches, though."

That's when I heard someone yelling, "Nitro 9 is in place!"

"Craig! Gina!" Dennis said. "Help me draw it into the cavern!"

"No way!" Gina protested. "This is suicide!"

"Ms. Martinez, your odds for survival aren't any better if you stay out here. At least if we draw it out, the others will have a chance to survive."

"That's a great plan," she said sarcastically. "Send someone else in as bait."

Tarnisha pushed past me. "I'll do it."

"But you have a daughter!" I said, but I guess she couldn't hear me over the noise.

Figuring Tarnisha understood the stakes more than anyone, let her go.

"When give the signal," Dennis called. 'I want everyone to fall back!"

We held our position, waiting for the order.

I couldn't see much in the direction of the cave due to the people in front of me, but one shouted phrase made a chill run down my back.

"Nitro 9 isn't igniting!"

I heard people arguing indistinctly, something about how the explosive charges were damp, or the contacts were damaged, then people renewed their attacks on the creature.

I saw the beast rip through the cook, leaving his skinny long haired body sprawled in a pool of blood, and then it was towering over me.

The thing reminded me of the statues I'd seen around the entrance to the throne room, except it was dark and dripping steaming slime.

The eyeless head, pockmarked with weapon wounds and bristling with shiny bits of metal, appeared to stare at me and sniff. Its jaw distended as it made low gurgling sounds.

"Stand perfectly still," Brett whispered, but I wondered how much advice I should take from a man who tried to kill the creature with a whip with a spiky ball at the end.

And then I felt the first contraction. I was going into labor.

"No!" I gasped. "Not here!"

Another contraction. And another.

The baby wanted to come out. And it wanted to come out now.

"No! No! Please no!"

My boyfriend, already pale from his wounds, suddenly looked paler when he noticed my frantic puffing, the tell-tale cries of birth pain.

"Oh God! Do you have to do that _here_?"


	17. Chapter 17: Say It From Your Chest

The creature seemed to look at me like an hors d'oeuvre, some kind of little nugget you savored a bit before eating. Its steaming drool appeared to increase as its eyeless head pointed my way.

"Hey!" I heard Jorge shouting as he stabbed it with his crude spear. "¡Puta feo! ¡Aquí!"

The beast shrieked and ripped him open.

I cried, though I wasn't sure if it were from the loss of a friend or the baby trying to come out.

Brett gripped my arm, tugging me down the hallway, out of the crowd.

"C'mon. We've got to get you to the medical bay."

Letting out a cry of pain, I nodded, stumbling in that direction, letting him half lead, half carry me into Venn's office.

"Where's the doctor!" I practically screamed as he laid me down on the examination table.

"Just breathe," Brett soothed. "Breathe. Remember your Lamaze lessons."

"Some lessons!" I groaned. "It was only a video!"

"Still. You gotta do what it says, and breathe."

Despite what he said, I puffed air like a chimney, grimacing with the pain and effort.

Brett clutched my hand, gently massaging it. "Calm down. Just breathe."

I squirmed, letting out an agonized animal noise. "I'd like to see you try it!"

And then, in between frantic inhalations, I gasped, "Isn't my water supposed to break first?"

"Dunno," Brett said. "It was my assumption that it would."

His expression grew dark. "Unless something went wrong."

That made me cry.

He squeezed my hand. "Baby, let's not jump to conclusions. It could be nothing."

"It sure doesn't feel like nothing!" I yelled.

I moaned. I puffed. I squirmed on the table.

"Where is that damned android doctor!" I screamed.

"It's triaging," Brett muttered. "Going to the most injured people first."

Puff puff puff.

"Do you know anything about delivering a baby?" I gasped.

"No," Brett admitted. "Only what I've seen in movies. I'm pretty sure there's more to it than blankets and hot water. I wasn't lying when I said you were my first."

"I'm going to die," I moaned.

I grabbed my boyfriend by the collar, dragging him down to my face. "Find me a doctor!" I yelled. "Any doctor! Get a med school student if you have to! Someone who knows something about vaginas! Hurry!"

Brett laughed.

"What's so funny!" I growled.

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing."

He shot me a worried look. "You sure you'll be okay in here by yourself."

I scowled. "I'm not okay right now. I need a doctor, so yes. Go!"

And so he ran out of the door as fast as he could, leaving me to puff and try to slow my breath.

I stared absently at the ceiling as the baby struggled against me. An arched cavern roof scraped clean of stalactites. It was a low section of cave, and the concrete walls had been built straight up into the roof. Right now, it felt claustrophobic, doing nothing to take my mind off the tight squeeze going on my body.

I puffed and looked between my legs at the video monitor on the wall facing the table. Giant waves crashing on a beach. There was another visual I didn't need right now.

"I'm about to give birth!" I screamed. "Someone get their ass in here right now!"

That's when I saw the man.

A strange, silent, movie star handsome African American.

He had a lab coat like a doctor, but something seemed _off_.

I'd never seen this man before, and that is saying something when you have spent so much time on the base that you recognize everyone's faces, even from the far off drilling sites.

The man's lab coat didn't appear to be regulation issue. The collar was up and fan-like, sort of like Dracula, and while it had buttons they were only decorative, and it had a rope tie around the waist, like a robe.

He was weird, but in a cute sort of way, and his eyes seemed to see right into the depths of my soul.

The man didn't talk. He only smiled at me, purring as he tilted his head like a curious mountain lion.

He then placed his hand on my belly.

All at once, I felt the muscles relaxing, the baby relaxing, and I wasn't quite sure if I had experienced a miscarriage or the baby just suddenly decided to chill out.

I breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the man.

The stranger raised a hand, waving goodbye, and when he did, I noticed the hand was a black chitinous claw.

I should have been horrified, but I found myself only mouthing "Thank you."

The man turned and walked out the door.

A second later, Brett returned, dragging the good Doctor Venn behind him.

"So!" the android called as he strolled in. "What seems to be the matter?"

"I was going into labor," I said. "I thought the baby was coming."

I stared at the two, wondering how I could ask about my visitor without looking crazy.

"Did you see a guy leaving here just a few minutes ago? A young African American guy? Kind of narrow build? Doesn't talk much?"

Venn shook his head like a guinea pig with a carrot being waved back and forth in front of its nose.

My boyfriend said, "Unh-uh."

"You sure?" I said. "He stepped out at the same time you came in."

Brett looked at me like I were crazy. "We didn't see anything, honey."

"I'll have to review my visual recordings," the doctor said. "My sensors did not appear to detect anything."

An awkward silence followed.

"Does the water have to break for her to have a baby?" Brett asked.

"It helps," the doctor said. "As a general rule of thumb. In some isolated cases on record, this didn't occur, and the baby was delivered via c-section, but it's generally a strong indicator that the baby is ready to come out. Of course, you don't want to wait until then to seek medical assistance."

He lifted up my shirt, exposing my belly, staring at it, running his cold hands across the skin. If a human doctor did something like that, a person would probably try to revoke his license, but our doctor had medical sensors in his eyes and fingers.

"What did you take?" he exclaimed. "This baby looks comatose!"

"What!" I cried in alarm. "Nothing!"

And then I thought of my visitor. "That man..." I muttered unthinkingly.

"Honey?" Brett's face was showing that "she's crazy" expression again.

"Nothing," I groaned, staring at the door.

"Wait," Brett said. "Aren't fetuses _supposed_ to be comatose? I mean, there really isn't that much to do in there..."

"Not like this," Venn said. "The baby almost looks listless. Depressed, even."

My boyfriend frowned. "I thought that's what was supposed to happen _after they got out_! I know _I'd_ be depressed!"

I shuddered in horror. "Is he...dead?"

"No no no," Venn said. "The baby's fine! Pulse, heart rate, neural and electrical activity all normal for a fetus that size and weight." He shrugged. "Insufficient data."

"But everything's fine," Brett repeated.

"Yes. It doesn't look like she's going to give birth right now, but it's good to be safe and check anyway."

Before we could discuss anything else, I hear someone yelling for the doctor, and I see Israel and Spotted Owl dragging a wounded man up to the other exam table.

"What do we have here?" Venn said as he hurried over to the victim.

"It's the damnedest thing," Israel said. "First the thing claws the shit out of him, then it tackles him to the floor and gives him mouth to mouth. I just stared at the bitch, going, `what the fuck!' Then I noticed he was having breathing problems."

Doctor Venn frowned. "Let's get him on the table and have a look at him."

I stared at the bloody figure they laid on the rubber pads. Square jaw, tan skin, hawk-like nose. Ephraim Lemos, the section B32 Device Specialist. His brother was the hydroponics tech, and an internet certified rabbi.

Spotted Owl glanced at me. "What's wrong with her?"

"Junior's getting a little rambunctious," Venn said as he prodded the victim's side. "Went into a false labor."

"Sure felt like a true one to me," I muttered.

"You'll get that," he said, spraying antiseptic on Ephraim's wounds. "A few false alarms are common to the process." He poked the man's chest, then pried his mouth open, staring inside.

"This man has a large object lodged in his primary bronchi. His airway is so obstructed that I am unable to determine how he is even breathing."

All of a sudden, I hear a muffled explosion, and dust rains down from the ceiling.

"I think it's safe to say they exploded the Nintro 9," Israel said with a wry smirk. "Either that or it's a _reeally big_ cave in."

The victim screamed and thrashed on the table as his comrades held him down.

"Whoa!" Israel said as he fought down a swinging arm. "Looks like you're not the only one who's giving birth, Rippers!"

Israel always called me that.

He was actually a cool guy, except he talked too much. He was always telling stories, to anyone who would listen. And he was a terrible flirt.

"Can we do some kind of surgery to get that thing out?" he was asking.

Venn froze up, the robotic version of "I don't know."

"There are things inside this entity that may be hazardous to break open, even if we successfully penetrate the appropriate section of the body without causing a fatal event."

The victim screamed as he writhed on the table.

Venn injected him with a morphine derivative.

"Is that such a good idea, doc?" Israel asked. "I mean, I know from my experience with barbiturates that when your airway's obstructed, the last thing you want to do is swallow your tongue and make it worse!"

"He's in a lot of pain," Venn muttered. "And we're not going to help him any when he's moving around like that."

He placed the sonogram device on the man's chest.

A hologram of an egg appeared in the air above his chest, a rounded soft thing that reminded me of ant or cockroach eggs under a microscope.

Shuddering, I looked away.

Turning to Brett, I said, "C'mon. Let's get out of here. I think I'm okay."

Brett helped me down, leading me to the door.

Before I could step out, Brett held up a warning hand. "Wait a minute. It might not be safe."

After peering outside, checking in both directions, he hurried me across the hall.

Once inside crew quarters, he said, "Looks like they pulled off the cave-in. I'll have to sneak up there and see if they've got the thing contained, and where our heroes are."

"I think I'm okay," I groaned. "You mind if I sneak behind you?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't. You almost gave birth last time. If some heavy shit goes down, I want to be able to get out of there in a hurry. Can you stay here for a second? I promise this won't take long."

I nodded. "Okay! I guess I need to take it easy, anyway."

He gave me a kiss and ran off.

I curled up on a futon, watching one of those ancient movies from our system archives, something with Adam Sandler in it.

It would have been nice to get something more modern, but the new data laws prevented us from acquiring ones that came out last year, even if management permitted the additional expense of transporting the data across space. Until then, we'd have to remain in a time warp, watching old romanticomedies with outdated jokes and period clothing.

Still, it was beter than contemplating the horrors I had just witnessed.

My eyelids drooped as I tried to follow an unfunny scene where Sandler lets the woman down and totally makes an ass of himself.

When my eyes opened again, I found myself standing in front of a wall of rubble, clad, once again, in the strange purple robe from the throne room, with crumbs all over it.

Three people stood around me. Dennis, Tarnisha, and Craig, a sullen looking young man with freckled arms and shot cropped red hair.

A thick cloud of dust hung over this cavern where we buried our dead.

This was the last place I wanted to be.

"What am I doing here?" I cried. "What is this?"

They only stared at me, creeping cautiously backward as they aimed weapons at my person.

"We don't want to hurt you," Dennis said.

"The hell!" Craig muttered. "Speak for yourself!"

I shivered.

Dennis crept closer. "All we want is some shiny rocks out of these caves. If you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone. Do you understand me?"

I frowned. "Why are you talking to me like that? What's wrong with you?"

"What's it doing?" Craig asked.

"I don't know," said Tarnisha. "It's like it's trying to talk or something."

I put my hands on my hips and sighed. "Will you guys stop playing games and tell me what the hell is going on?"

Craig burst out laughing. "Oh my God, what is it doing now? _I'm A Little Teapot_?"

"It's almost like it understands us!"

Dennis crept closer to me. "Do you understand me?" he said in my face.

I looked at him like he were a moron.

It wasn't the first time for that.

"I've never understood you," I said. "But I never let that stop me before."

"If you can understand me, then nod once."

I nodded. "This is so stupid."

"If we put down our weapons, will you leave us alone and not harm us?"

I rolled my eyes, nodding again.

"Do you know another way out of this cave?"

As I was shaking my head, Craig replied, "I thought you knew these tunnels like the back of your hand."

Rolling my eyes, I told Dennis, "You think I'd be standing around in this dirty cave if I knew how to get out?"

I leaned my back against the wall of rubble, staring into the cave.

"I think that's a `no' on the cave exit, boss," Craig said.

"You think we can get it to move these rocks away?" Tarnisha asked. "I mean, it's not harming us or anything. And it looks pretty strong."

"Why would I do that?" Dennis said. "It would defeat the whole purpose of setting off the explosives! The point was to get this thing contained so it can't harm any more employees. We don't know when it'll feed again."

"We still have the CAT positioned at the tomb," Craig said. "What if we use that thing to make a crack in this pile? Just so we can get some air?"

"In case you haven't noticed, we have an unstable wild animal occupying this space, so it's not going to matter if we can breathe in here or not. In fact, we'd be safer if it were a complete vacuum, so it can suffocate."

"You _do_ realize I can hear you," I said, but they ignored me.

I slid down on the floor, trying to make myself comfortable against the mountain of debris.

"Look!" Tarnisha said. "It's resting! Maybe it's full or something!"

"It _was_ eating a lot," Dennis muttered.

Tarnisha stared at me. "It's stuffed like my cousin Antoine at Thanksgiving dinner!"

"I guess that's why it's acting so calm," Craig said.

The girl looked worried. "How much air we got left?"

"Not enough," said Dennis. "Air is pumped from the base, and all the air supply lines are connected to the walls we just collapsed. We're going to have to find a way back around, and fast."

He opened a large metal crate, digging through the tools and equipment.

"Once we get out, the first thing I'm going to do is find a way to sandwich this creature behind another wall of debris, sort of bury it alive and set up operations around it."

"Who's going to be the bait this time?" Craig said.

Tarnisha shook her head violently. "Not me! I sure as hell ain't gonna let nobody bury me in no wall! Unh-uh!"

Dennis dug a small black device out of a crate, pushing buttons.

"What if we use the AE's to reopen the air flow?" Tarnisha asked.

The boss frowned at the mound of rocks. "I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. The explosives also deactivated the blowers. What we need to do is find a Cave-In Kit and use its air masks until we find another way back to base, or passage into Base D."

Base D was a ghost town, abandoned due to serious health, mechanical and budgetary issues. Supply belonged to the company, so they just left it there. For a long time, the standard answer to any supply question was, "Did you check in Base D?"

That was actually the problem with the place. It had been picked clean.

Hydroponics was dead because we gutted it. The same goes for air equipment, food, and other vital supplies.

"What good is Base D?" Craig asked. "The last I checked, the place didn't have much more than a few cases of moldy rice cakes, some astronaut cooking manuals and some ballooning cans of carrots."

"They have a vehicle," Dennis said.

"No, they have a chassis with missing wheels and dismantled engine."

Dennis sighed. "It's all we've got within a ten mile radius. Unless you want to try your luck with the bog mummies in the crypt."

"Remind me again why I risked my life to do this?"

"We're trying to save the crew from _that_." Dennis pointed at me. "Now _if you're not too busy_, I'd like you to help me locate the nearest Cave-In Kit."

The three of them turned and walked away.

I thought about joining them but they seemed to be talking about me like I were a piece of furniture, so I didn't bother until they disappeared from view.

I got up, quietly sneaking behind them.

"What happens when it gets back up?" Craig was saying. "What happens if it gets hungry again and comes after us?"

Dennis responded by taking out a knife and shoving it into Craig's chest, twisting up and sideways until the man stopped breathing, collapsing on the cavern floor.

"There," he muttered. "That'll keep it busy."

I awoke in a cold sweat, staring at my surroundings in bewilderment.

I was still in crew quarters. The video system was showing the credits of the movie I had nodded off to, gaffers, grips and visual effects supervisors. I shut the device off.

I found Brett sitting in a chair to one side of the screen, smiling at me.

"That must have been some nightmare."

"I'll say," I groaned. "Was I talking in my sleep or something?"

He chuckled. "You were calling someone a fool or an idiot. I hope it wasn't me!"

I shook my head. "What about that creature? Did they get it contained?"

Brett nodded. "That's an affirmative, ma'am. They set the detonation perfectly. I don't think it'll be coming back anytime soon."

"What about Dennis? Tarnisha?"

He shook his head. "Dennis may be a bastard, but this time he really saved our butts. I guess, under that gruff exterior, there's a man who only wants what's best for the crew. He really isn't such a bad guy."

I thought about what I saw in the dream, Dennis shoving the knife up into Craig's chest like a professional killer.

"Yeah," I muttered, but only to avoid sounding crazy. It _was_ only a dream, after all. "So where is Tarnisha? Is she with him in the cave?"

"Yeah," he said. "Her and Craig. All three of them were the bait."

I shivered, disturbed by how closely my dream matched reality.

Of course, there have been times when I've fallen asleep next to my music system or a movie and dreamed about people singing. Maybe people were talking about Dennis and the monster next to my bed?

"You think there's any way for them to get back?"

He shook his head no, but said, "Not sure. I mean, Dennis might have an idea. Maybe they'll get the hydroponics working in Base D again or something."

There it was again. I never would have thought of going to Base D when trapped in a cave-in.

"Was anyone talking around me while I slept?" I said. "Were you having any conversations in here?"

Brett chuckled. "I did chat with Izzy for a bit. Something about doing a bit with the space marines and blowing up a terrorist. Why? Did you dream about demolitions?"

Israel. Who knows what crazy stories he put in my brain? I smiled and shook my head.

Setting my bare feet on the cold carpet, I said, "You think we can leave a rover outside the base so they can get back?"

He looked at me like I'd grown another head. "You seriously want to do all that for the man? After all he's done to you? When we don't even know if they'll go over there?"

"He's got Tarnisha with him," I said. "She has a daughter back home."

"I'll see if I can get authorization for the vehicle. I'm pretty sure it'll get a pass, being it's Dennis and all. It's not like we've got any other plans with this wall closed."

Hearing screaming, I jumped to my feet.

"I thought you said that thing was trapped."

"I did."

He crept to the exit, motioning for me to stay back as he searched the hallway.

We saw Spotted Owl popping out of the medical bay door. She met our gaze, sadly shaking her head.

I guessed it was our patient again. I breathed a sigh of relief, hurrying across the corridor.

The man had gotten worse. He was coughing up blood, his skin pale and veiny.

He writhed and screamed on the table, his wrists and ankles tied in place to keep him from hurting himself.

"What's going on?" I said to the doctor.

"It seems the egg is hatching."

"I was right," Izzy said. "He _is_ giving birth. _Wish I wasn't right_!"

"And you can't..._excise_ it," I said.

"No," Doctor Venn replied. "Due to the unpredictable nature of the creature's birth cycle, and the way it attaches itself to his internal-"

Before he could continue, Ephraim's chest exploded in a shower of gore and ragged chunks of bloody organs.

Israel swore, leaping back.

A rounded serpentine head emerged from the victim's body, an ugly little face, featureless save for a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.

I should have screamed, but instead I found myself calmly saying, "I've seen this before."

I don't know why I said it.

I slowly marched up to the disgusting blood covered little beast, stroking its head.

"Honey," Brett cried. "I don't think you should-"

He fell silent when he noticed the creature purring softly, rubbing itself against my hand.

"Oh my God, what..."

He couldn't even form a sentence to communicate his shock. The expression on his face said that he found my behavior more bizarre and frightening than the thing that had burst from the man's chest, maybe even the horrors of the alien funhouse we went through.

"How the fuck...?"

I only gave him a shrug, not knowing how to explain any of it.

I gave the creature a dismissive pat and it sunk back inside the victim, like our exchange had been completely ordinary.


	18. Chapter 18: Cave Diving

Brett was looking at me like I were demon possessed. The sad thing was, I couldn't tell if I wasn't.

"Babe, what the fuck! What in God's name was _that_? How the hell do you just walk up to a thing sticking out of a man's lung and start petting it?"

"The better question is, how the fuck it didn't tear a chunk out of her hand," Izzy said. "And how she made it go back in the body. God, now I've seen everything."

My boyfriend and I stared at each other uncomfortably for an entire minute. I had no explanation to give him, and he, saying his piece, didn't seem to have anything more to ask. Even Izzy was too busy staring to speak. That in itself defied the laws of physics. The doctor, well, I think he must have blown a circuit, for he didn't talk, either.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I just had this weird feeling, and something, _some force_, took over me, and I felt I had to do whatever it wanted me to."

Brett just shook his head. "Honey, the next time that shit happens to you, will you _please_ not do what the damn thing says? For me?"

I stared at him, at a loss for words.

"And me too," Izzy joked. "I damn near shit my pants. You don't want me to shit my pants, do you?"

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't felt right since we opened that vault. I think it was something in the air."

"I don't think _any of us_ felt right after we opened that vault," Brett muttered.

Suddenly feeling weak legged, I leaned against a wall.

"I don't feel good. I think...I need to lie down."

Looking worried, Brett laid a hand on my shoulder. "You do that. But do me a favor. Stop lying in front of the video machine. That thing is doing some scary juju to your brain!"

"Fine," I said. "Can I at least read?"

Brett nodded. "As long as it ain't nothing spooky. Read a romance, or the bible, or Moby Dick. Something that doesn't make your eyes glow and play with killer body parasites."

I swallowed. "Were my eyes really glowing?"

He laughed. "No, but they might as well have been." He rubbed my head, running his fingers through my hair.

"I've got a hilarious book," Izzy said. "You'll love it. Once I get back to my quarters, I'll send it to your account."

On the base, the internet is a closed, streamlined system. If you know someone's name, you can send them texts, or files, e-books or whatever. With a few rare exceptions, there was only one or two people on Jagalchi with a specific name, so it was a simple matter of clicking on the employee directory and pushing send.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

I kissed Brett, returning to my bedroom, but I couldn't sleep. I was too afraid of having another nightmare.

I glanced at Izzy's book in my reader. A rather crude, sophomoric tale, funny in a few places. It didn't sustain my interest.

I stepped into the kitchen area, guzzling milk and orange juice and pouring myself a bowl of cereal.

Our orange juice supply mostly came from shipments. Only ten to fifteen percent came from our own pathetic little orchard. For milk, we had a small calf being prepared, and a few goats. No one was going to ship an adult cow up here, so only five to ten percent of our milk supply was locally produced.

They tried to produce milk from Hell's Lice once, but the stuff was revolting, and nobody wanted to drink it. It soon became the official hangover cure of the base. "Crab's nut," they call it.

Although we had enough milk and juice to last a few months, we had a big staff, so our supplies were strictly rationed. The others might have to go without for a week or two. Unfair to the crew, I suppose, but they knew I was pregnant.

Our botanists had done better with the granola. Although we could only manage a cupful of honey from our little experiments with bees, we had corn syrup, and our sugar was both shipped and grown local. Not bad, but for some reason I craved cinnamon.

I poured a spoonful on my cereal, took a bite, then decided it wasn't enough.

I added more and more, until I had entire cup poured in my bowl.

Cinnamon wasn't a high demand item. When our half gallon container is gone, we might not get one for another year. It was a mining operation, not Little Debbie. Still, I couldn't help myself.

I ate a spoonful of the cinnamon thick milky sludge before finding the milk disagreeable, and the oats.

And then I was scooping spoonfuls of pure cinnamon into my mouth.

I could write all of that stuff off as a symptom of pregnancy. Depleted of vitamins, women often crave pickles in ice cream, chips of ice, or even shavings off a brick.

What I couldn't justify was the snorting.

It began when I was spooning some into my bowl. I became addicted to the smell.

When I inhaled my cereal, I inhaled in more ways than one.

Then I had a handful, breathing it in.

It progressed to a point where I was cutting it in lines and sucking it up my nose with a straw.

Brett came into the room, catching me in the middle of my second line.

"What the hell are you doing!"

I wiped my nose and shrugged. "I was craving cinnamon."

He came up to the counter, staring at the mess. "I can see that."

He pointed to the lines, and the straw. "And what is this? Playing Scarface?"

I reddened. "Maybe?"

He sighed. "Did you get any rest at all? You're still acting a little weird."

I shook my head. "I tried."

Frowning, he said, "Look, uh, me and Izzy, we're going to shuttle a vehicle down to Base D. You know, just in case Dennis shows up. I really think-"

Before he could tell me to go back and rest, I blurted, "I want to go with you."

Brett just chuckled. "Honey, you know they don't have any spacesuits specially made for pregnant people. No one in their right mind would want them wandering around outside in the first place. If we need to evacuate you, we have the tents."

`The tents' are wheeled quarantine chambers with built in oxygen tanks. Pressurized to protect the sick and injured. There's no space for you to do anything but lay down once you're in them.

"What about Rhonda's suit?"

He frowned. "Forget it, baby. Just get some rest."

"I think Big Joe has a spacesuit," Izzy said as he marched into the room. "I always said you could fit two people in there."

"And what does Big Joe think about it?"

Izzy shook his head sadly. "Big Joe's not thinking about anything anymore."

"A damned shame," Brett said.

Me and Joe weren't exactly close. Constantly chewing on onions doesn't make a person close to anyone. Plus he wasn't on my team.

"Where's the suit," I said.

Our base has four main vehicles, all solar/electric. Two of them are large clunky things designed for transporting ores or equipment between carrier ships and the base.

The other two resemble Japanese minivans, rounded cigar shaped vehicles with rugged jeep tires and domes covered in solar panels. Each came equipped with tiny satellite dishes that looked like something a more ambitious Direct TV company used before their business folded.

Since the vehicle is designed to provide one astronaut with enough life support for five months, or one month for five people, it came with a built in air recycler, a temperature converter and a water reclamation system, not to mention surplus air tanks and a backup battery, for the event of dust storms.

For some reason unclear to me, Gina decided to tag along with us. I guessed it had something to do with her being friends with Tarnisha or something.

Izzy and Gina took one vehicle, Brett and I taking the other. Ordinarily we had to sign forms in triplicate before even touching the vehicles, but senior management was not present, and Travis, our second in command, wasn't anywhere to be found. Gina told me he was up in hydroponics, banging Natalie from the command center out in the soybean field, but I saw neither, nor heard anything but machinery when I checked there.

I couldn't find anyone but a single farmer. Mel, being the strong, silent type, didn't provide me any clues.

All Izzy and Brett had to do was explain the problem and joke their way past Mark and Dana, our guards for that shift, and we had the vehicles. It wasn't like we didn't know each other.

Clad in an oversized spacesuit reeking of onions, I marched out the airlock, staring at the lifeless rocky landscape. In the distance, I could see mountains, including a twin pair of jagged peaks, Elbereth and Nienna, which, I believe, were named by a scientist who spent too much time playing Dungeons and Dragons.

The surface of Jagalchi isn't much to look at. It's basically a gray version of Mars. Like the moon, I suppose, but with a Mars-like atmosphere, and terrestrial gravity.

Scientists found equine looking skeletons buried out here, not unlike the mummies we found, but it must have been a long time ago, when the atmosphere was capable of sustaining life, unless they didn't require much breathable air.

Back then, they apparently also had plants, and indications of objects that might have been dwellings, but after so many centuries, it was difficult to tell if it were a dwelling or just an unusually shaped clump of plants.

Jagalchi was named by a Korean scientist who thought that one of the planet's craters resembled the bay of Busan. He actually thought he saw water.

The drive to Base D was not terribly long, but still impossible to endure on foot. At least with the pitiful air packs we had in the emergency cave-in kits. Generally, taking into account the rough terrain, the commute would take roughly twenty to thirty minutes. If Dennis and Tarnisha had found the kits, they would have only managed a trip to the base in that amount of time, if they ran, and they certainly wouldn't be able to make it back.

As the vehicle bumped across the uneven terrain, I stared out the small window at the dead landscape, a monotonous landscape of boulders and rocks and dirt stretching seemingly to infinity.

About halfway between bases, I heard someone crying for help.

"Stop the rover!" I shouted.

Brett obediently slammed on the brakes. "It's the baby, isn't it," he said. "I knew you should've stayed in the base!"

I shook my head violently. "No! It's not that! Shhh!"

And then we listened in silence.

I heard the cry again. "Hear that?"

"Nuh-uh," Brett said.

I sighed. "Someone's in trouble. I can hear them out there. We've got to check it out."

"I don't know," he said with uncertainty. "That doesn't seem like a good idea. You'd think if someone were out there, we'd know about it."

"What if it's Dennis and Tarnisha?"

"That's a mighty long way to go," he said. "I admit that Dennis is athletic enough, but..." He frowned.

"Just let me look, okay?"

He nodded. "Fine. But just a look."

"Is everything all right over there?" Izzy asked over the radio.

"Yeah," Brett radioed back. "Ellen thought she heard something. Maybe someone's in trouble. We're going to check it out real quick."

A long stretch of radio silence followed this. Perhaps a debate had occurred in the other vehicle. "Want to meet up at Base D?"

Brett shrugged. "Yeah. Do what you want. See you in a few."

"Copy that. Peace out!" The other rover drove off.

We had stopped along the edge of a deep fissure that ran along the outside of one of our drill sites. The upper portion of this hole was nearly closed, looking like a large slightly downturned mouth. When you leaned over the edge, you could see it open into an immense cavern framing a seemingly bottomless chasm.

We were in our spacesuits now, communicating only by helmet radio and hand signals.

I could hear the cries more clearly now. They were getting louder.

"For the love of God, someone help me!"

"There!" I said through my helmet mike. "Don't tell me you can't hear that!"

Brett's expression was obscured behind his helmet, but I got the impression that he hadn't heard a thing.

With a frustrated sigh, I asked for rappelling equipment.

"No way," he said.

"Dammit, Brett!" I cried. "I'm trying to save a man's life!"

"So you think someone's down there?" said a third voice on the helmet radio.

Brett and I whirled around, staring at the figure in the wide hipped spacesuit.

"What, did he kick you out of the rover?" Brett asked.

Gina shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

We leaned over the fissure, staring down.

"I really don't hear anything," Brett said.

Straining my ears, I could only agree. "He's not yelling now, but before, I heard it."

"You have spelunking gear," Gina said. "I don't think it would hurt to take a look around."

Brett's helmet turned toward her sharply, seeming to telegraph, "I can't believe what I'm hearing." But then his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine. But let's make this quick."

The rover comes equipped with a tow cable and a `boot' to brace the vehicle for towing other ones stuck in sinkholes. To this we attached our rappelling cables and carabiners.

Fortunately for us, the rover was originally made to be a surveying vehicle, so it came with harnesses and massive amounts of cable. We were therefore well prepared for this little excursion.

Yes, I know. A pregnant woman probably shouldn't be rappelling into a big treacherous chasm, but I had spotters with me.

The cavern was shaped like the inside of an intestine, surfaced all over with rock formations with the texture of cauliflower. Pale phallus shaped mushrooms the size of small cars projected from clusters of stalactites and poked through the broken cavern floor, if it could even be called that.

So far, the only thing our scientists have learned about these so-called `Vigruso Mushrooms' is that they are more toxic than any known substance, natural or manufactured, on earth. They theorize that if the substance's poisonous substances could somehow be removed or diluted, it's possible that the effect on the human nervous system would be comparable to a concentrated distillation of cocaine, heroin, LSD, peyote and earthly hallucinogenic mushrooms combined together.

A guy from Base D tried eating one of them ten years ago. One bite, and his brain liquified and drained into his stomach.

Another guy, just last year, tried to burn one out of a cave. In the autopsy, the doctor couldn't even find his lungs.

"We should get out of here," Brett said. "I really don't like the look of this."

"What," said Gina. "Afraid of a little hanging fungus?"

"I'm afraid of anything that melts your hand to the bone when you touch it." He crossed his arms. "The last time I checked, you weren't too fond of big cocks yourself."

"Shut up."

The cavern floor was treacherous, basically a bunch of jagged rock islands and fungus mounds standing in a darkened void. We had rappelled onto the largest one.

"Help!" It was the voice again.

"There!" I cried, pointing down a chasm framed in narrow staircase-like shelves of rock.

"Unh-uh," Brett said. "No way! No sir, no ma'am!" He tugged on my arm. "That's it, Ellen. You're going to bed. Enough of this nonsense."

"But Brett!" I cried. "I heard him! Someone's trapped down there!"

He sighed. "Honey, look at that hole. Do you really think Dennis or Tarnisha would do a fool thing like jumping down there?"

I shrugged. "What about Craig?"

I could see him frowning behind the helmet. "I don't care. No woman of mine is going to climb pregnant down some shallow assed switchback risking her life and the life, of her unborn baby, on account of some voice we shouldn't even be able to hear through these helmets."

"I'll do it," Gina blurted.

Brett's helmet turned to face her. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "I'm not pregnant and I know what I'm doing."

"You heard the voice too?" I asked.

"No. But we're already here. I figure it wouldn't hurt to pop down there for a few minutes and see if anything's there."

I patted her on the shoulder. "Thank you."

"Fuhgettabout it. This is the most fun I've had in months."

I stared at her, waiting for the punch line.

"Me and my girlfriend, we used to go rock climbing and spelunking all the time. This'll be a piece of cake."

"Shit, man," Brett muttered. "Knock yourself out!"

Gina marched to the edge of the island, stomping experimentally on the rock step below.

"When I go down, keep feeding me the rope. When I tug twice, I want to stop. Three tugs, pull me up. If I pull more than that, get me the fuck out of there. Pronto."

"Got it," Brett said, and we let her climb down the rocky steps.

"We have helmet radios," I said. "It's much more efficient."

"Just in case the cave fucks up my signal, we need to have clear communication."

She climbed down another step, this one six feet lower than the first, singing to herself.

"Her kisses never get better...They only get wetter and wetter...I regret the day that I met her...When she joined our football pool..."

"What's that from?" Brett asked.

"I don't know," I said. "_Jagalchi's got talent_."

"No, I'm really not sure it does," he laughed. "Don't quit your day job down there!"

"Fuck you," came the answer back. "If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

She tugged once, so we doled out more rope.

"What are you seeing down there?" I asked.

"A whole lot of nothing. Just more dick fungus and another-fuck!"

We felt heavy weight sagging on the end of the rope.

I frowned. "Gina?"

No answer.

"Gina!"

Only static came back.

"If you can hear this," Brett said. "We're going to pull you back up!"

"No no! I'm fine! I just...slipped!"

The weight lessened.

"God," she gasped. "I thought that rock was stable!"

We all sighed in relief, and Gina climbed further.

"You felt any contractions lately?" Brett asked, obviously trying to break the tension with chitchat.

"No," I said. "The baby's good."

"You picked out a name yet?" Gina's voice was faint and crackly, the signal cramped by rock formations.

"Not yet," I replied.

There was some static, then I heard her say, "You should name her after me."

I laughed. "I'll think about it." But I was nonverbally communicating "hell no" to my boyfriend.

"Gina's a nice name," she said.

Whatever else she said after this was lost to the cavern.

When we got her signal again, she was saying, "...and it was so cold up in those mountains that me and Sandy sharing a sleeping bag was actually a necessity. A fun necessity, but a necessity nonetheless."

"Did you go broke going on all these trips?" Brett asked like he had heard the whole story.

She laughed. "Why else would I volunteer to join you slobs? For my health?..._What the fuck!_"

"I understand," Brett chuckled. "Sounds like your reason for being here is a lot-"

"Oh my God!" Gina cried. "Not another one of those fucking eggs!"

And then she starts yanking on the rope like crazy.

"Eggs?" Brett said with alarm.

"Pull!" I shouted, and we pulled the rope as hard as we could.

Suddenly, a scream fills our helmet radios.

"Gina!"

The next tug on the rope was so forceful that we nearly took a spill into the chasm. We had to brace ourselves against rocks to keep from falling in.

"Gina?" I called.

Nothing.

"Gina!"

Brett tied the rope around a small boulder.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"We need to use the winch."

I frowned. "Gina's not that heavy."

He shrugged. "Maybe she's got her leg tied up on a boulder or something. I'll be just a second."

And then he disappeared up the rope, returning to the vehicle.

The cavern mouths silently gaped at me, the glistening stalagmites beyond taking on the shapes of men with glowing eyes in my overworked imagination. The cave blocked all radio from the surface, so I didn't even hear from my boyfriend. For a few minutes, I heard nothing but crackling static as I stood alone in the cave, staring at the phantom men.

And then I heard the stranger's voice again.

"Thank you," it said.

"No!" I cried in dismay. "No! No no no no!"

I saw dust popping off the rope as the winch yanked upwards.

Quickly, I threw the rope off the rock, though I feared what we'd end up with.

There was a tug of war for a minute, one end trying to drag me down while the other pulled up, but then the vehicle won out, and the rope slowly retracted towards the surface.

The rope moved fast, and in minutes, I could see a spacesuit and a helmet rising over the ridge of rocks.

We only retrieved half a suit, and it was covered in blood.

When it hit the island, I screamed.

Inside the helmet, I could see Gina's head, and the arms of her suit remained intact, but her lower torso was completely gone, torn ragged like a mountain lion or a bear had ripped into her.

In a blind panic, I scaled the rope, screaming to Brett to stop the winch.

At last I reached the surface and my signal got through to him. The winch stopped.

All of this wasn't safe baby-robics, but neither is mining.

I raced to the vehicle, leaped into a side seat, and slammed the door shut.

"Drive!" I shouted.

"What!" said Brett. "What about Gina?"

"She's gone. There's another one of _those things_ down there. Drop the rope and go!"

"Dammit," he growled. "I knew this detour was bullshit!"

His helmet turned to face me. He looked scared. "You ate something from that tomb, didn't you?"

Before I could reply, a glistening black shape landed on the windshield.

I heard an animal shriek and an unpleasant squealing sound as a pair of talon-like claws raked across the fiberglass body.

"The daughter lived," I found myself mouthing, but I didn't know why.


	19. Chapter 19: Chase

A rover is not a car. There are no door locks or keys. The possibility of car thieves existing on Jagalchi was so remote that we'd sooner encounter a casino manned by pink elephants. Even if we had thieves lurking in the base itself, where would they go with their prize?

For this reason, there was nothing we could do to keep the thing from getting in.

It was only a matter of time before it found the door handles.

Brett's gloved hand closed around the control joystick, finger hovering over the acceleration trigger.

Alarmed, I grabbed his wrist.

"Wait!" I cried. "Gina's body is still hooked to the cable. We're not going to drag it around behind us like a water skier!"

"Dammit," he growled, shifting into park. He dug around the back for weapons.

We had one of those modified guns with us, but he chose to grab a pair of bolt cutters and a combination pick and shovel with a laser cutter in the handle.

I watched with anxious dread as he climbed into the trunk, pushing the door opening button.

Designed for operating in tight spaces, the rear hatch rolled onto the roof instead of swinging outwards like a car.

Convenient in a storage bay.

Not so convenient for someone who wants a door shut in a hurry.

While Brett was busy squeezing the legs of the bolt cutter together to cut the cable, I heard the black thing scratching across the roof.

Soon it would be at the rear, tearing out my boyfriend's throat.

I picked up the stun rifle, climbing in between the passenger seat as I aimed the stock over his shoulder.

The moment I heard the click of Brett's bolt cutters, the creature roared and lashed out at him.

Jabbing the door closing button, he stabbed the thing several times with the serrated shovel tip, but the beast did not retreat.

Instead, I heard my boyfriend grunting in pain, and the hiss of air rushing out of his spacesuit.

"Get into the driver's seat and floor it!" Brett hollered.

"I don't know how to pilot this thing!" I cried.

"What's there to know? It's a joystick with a trigger!"

I hurried into Brett's seat, pressing down the front trigger button.

The speed was not impressive, only about twenty five miles per hour. The vehicle had a top speed of only thirty five or forty. It was like using a golf cart as a getaway vehicle. Generally, the only advantage of a rover to walking is the life support equipment.

The door slid down and hit the creature on the head, but being equipped with a safety feature, it didn't close all the way.

Instead, it let out a protesting groan, retreating back up to the roof.

Brett, swearing, punched the button again.

"Can't you get any more speed out of that thing?" Brett complained.

I clenched my finger tight around the trigger. It was now going thirty.

"It's got to warm up to it," I called.

"So is this thing back here!"

"Is there an autopilot?" I asked.

Brett didn't reply.

Thirty five miles per hour. I swerved to avoid a boulder.

Forty.

The vehicle was now rattling like the speed was something it couldn't bear.

It was then that I saw the plastic card.

Auto pilot.

Following the directions, I flipped the switch to lock the speed, pushed a button to activate the Collision Avoidance System, and climbed out of the seat, grabbing the stun rifle.

Getting close to the creature as I could, I aimed and fired.

The gloves were awkward, and I never get opportunities to practice my marksmanship, so of course I missed.

The first shot tore the insulation off the domed ceiling.

The second left Brett's spacesuit hissing air through jagged rips in the shoulder coverings, though in my defense I _did_ manage to embed a huge amount of metal washers in the creature's face.

Brett, in the meantime, was cutting the creature with the laser, but it wasn't a light saber, it was just a beam of light that slowly burned things.

This mainly served to piss the creature off.

I aimed and fired again.

This time, a metal ball hit the monster, and I saw a flicker of blue light, one of the regular stun charges.

It shrieked, staggering back.

The door was nearly closed now, the creature galloping after us like a gleeful dog.

It easily kept pace with the vehicle, for even a skilled runner could do the same.

It felt like we were only going thirty anyway.

Brett readied the shovel, prepared to stab the beast before it tried to get in again, but it made no move.

Just a few more inches...

Suddenly a pair of claws appeared in the gap.

The moment the door hit them, up it went again.

"Dammit!"

Bang.

Bang. Bang.

Glancing out the window, I saw Dennis leaning out the back of the other rover with a gun, an actual steel barreled slug firing assault weapon.

My boyfriend punched the door closing button again.

It really closed this time.

In the distance, I could see the creature carrying off what remained of Gina's body, disappearing into the crevice like a beaten animal.

Brett climbed back into the driver's seat, removing his helmet and switching off the pumps as he breathed in the vehicle's air supply.

He shut off the auto pilot, turning us around. Since Izzy apparently took care of our objective already, we had nothing left to do but go back to base.

"God," Brett muttered. "What a royal fuck up."

"I'm sorry," I blurted.

"I told you not to listen to that evil juju shit in your head, and what do you do, you lead us straight into the lair of one of those _things_!"

"It's not my fault," I whispered. "It's not something I can control."

He gave me a cold look. "You ate that shit from the tomb, didn't you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I hope I didn't, but I can't tell. If I did, I certainly wouldn't have done it on purpose."

He stared sullenly at the rocky terrain for several minutes.

We didn't say anything we just stared at the lifeless landscape. Was this a picture of how our relationship would become? All suffocating and rough on the outside, cold and deadly in the interior?

"I think we need to get you an exorcist," he said. "Get that devil out of you."

I smirked. "I'd like to see that on a requisition form. `One hundred cases of tuna, ninety gallons of dishwashing detergent, oh, and a Catholic priest trained in exorcisms.'"

"It ain't funny," Brett said. "You're scaring the shit out of me. People are dying." He left the sentence hanging, like he meant to say `Because of you', but was too nice to say it out loud.

I didn't know what to say.

"What's the name of that Protestant minister guy that only works the drills a couple hours a day? Travis?"

"Tom Duzer," I muttered.

And then I remembered how the creature from the cave had sliced the cornball gray haired preacher up the center like a Christmas turkey.

"Tom's dead," I said. "Protestant pastors generally don't do exorcisms anyway." Shrugging, I added, "Want to get Spotted Owl to do it?"

Brett snorted derisively. "Please. Satan just laughs at that Native American bullshit."

He fell silent again, staring out the window.

"So what are you suggesting, then?" I asked. "You gonna take an online course? Watch a How To video in the educational library?"

My boyfriend didn't laugh.

He didn't even look at me.

He just stared ahead with a stony expression on his face.

When we arrived back at base, I brought him a replacement spacesuit, one that belonged to Tom.

I didn't dare mention the owner to him, and he didn't ask.

It was a little tight, since Tom wasn't as muscular as Brett, but it served its purpose.

When he got inside the airlock and took off his helmet, I saw him taking out a plastic card with bible verses on it. I think he figured it out, because he didn't say anything about it.

Dennis, Israel and Tarnisha were waiting for us inside the suit room, Dennis wearing the frustrated expression I'd seen him use during a particularly bad productivity meeting, Tarnisha standing far away from the boss, close to the door.

The suit room was a plain concrete cube lined with lockers and a few benches. It had air, but the air smelled like feet.

"Where's Gina?" Izzy asked.

I sighed. "She's gone. We found another one of those _things_."

"Correction," Brett said. "_She_ found another one of those things. We were doing fine until she started hearing voices." He paused. "Did Craig go back to crew quarters?"

Dennis slowly shook his head.

"Where is he?"

The boss didn't answer. Tarnisha had the stunned shell shocked expression of someone who had undergone a horrible tragedy. It was the kind of expression one wore after surviving a rape or violent abuse.

I looked in her eyes, and I knew. The murder from my vision actually happened.

"Apparently the creature got him," Izzy sighed.

"Yeah," Tarnisha muttered. "_The creature_."

Her tone was accusatory, casting doubt on his claim. She did not, however, go out and say what she meant.

Dennis's fierce glare indicated she had already said too much.

Brett glanced at me for a moment, looking suspicious.

I just shook my head, mouthing the word no.

My boyfriend frowned. "There's two of them now, and we ain't got shit to fight back with."

He stared at Dennis. "Speaking of which, where'd you get that gun?"

"Locked equipment safe. Base D. Only one in storage."

Thwarted, Brett looked away.

"We've still got some auto extractors," Izzy suggested.

Dennis hissed through his nostrils. "Every time you wound the creature with one of those, it melts the drill."

Izzy paced the floor, clearly frustrated. "If you had let us gang up on the thing with all of them, like I originally suggested, a lot of people would still be alive!"

"Those AE's are worth thousands of dollars apiece," Dennis said.

"Oh yeah?" Izzy snapped back. Even when angry, he looked ready to tell a joke, even if it wasn't funny. "And how much are all the funeral expenses going to cost?"

To Dennis's credit, he didn't mention the fact we generally buried our dead on planet, or, in the case of Craig, fed our dead to the monster.

A long time ago, we did actually ship the bodies back across space, but later crewmembers, like us, all signed on site burial waivers as condition for employment.

"Mr. Young," Dennis said, "I understand that the lives of every person on this base have intrinsic value..."

Tarnisha coughed in response, but didn't comment.

"But this is also a business. We were placed here to mine, and we can't mine without proper mining extraction tools, unless you want to chip away at the Haddanium with picks and shovels."

"We could send a memo to Mission Control," Izzy said. "Tell them what happened and ask for more supplies. Hell, all we need are a few repair kits. _And maybe some guns, if it's not too much trouble._"

"At the time," Dennis said. "Mr. Muldoon's improvised weapons appeared to be sufficient. For that reason, I didn't think it necessary to sacrifice more than a couple AE's to the cause."

"So you instead walled them in with the creature, so _nobody_ could get them!"

The boss's nostrils flared. "What's done is done. We're arguing about the past. General Hindsight never won any battles."

"This is getting us nowhere," I said. "We need a plan. Something hast to be done."

Dennis crossed his arms. "It's obvious what we need to do. I just thought we had enough equipment and manpower not to need it."

"What," said Izzy. "You're going to blow up the base?"

Dennis gave him a look like he had failed the entry exam and shouldn't even be on the base. "That's only for hostile takeovers and level four viral outbreaks."

"Then what?" Brett asked. "What you got hiding up your sleeve?"

"He's talking about the corporate mercs," Tarnisha said.

"ISPF," I muttered. "The company SWAT team."

Brett rubbed his hands together. "It's about damn time!"


	20. Chapter 20: Corporate Security

Command Center was a small office crowded by computer equipment. Systems along the back wall monitored and regulated oxygen, power and water usage, maintained electrical generators, oxygen scrubbers and pumps, took care of water and sewer systems.

The adjoining wall held our environmental monitors, atmosphere, barometer, temperature, seismograph, weather imaging satellite, magnetic readings.

Then, next to a coffee machine, we had the Base Communications desk, from which we got our cute little FYI messages, and from which, I gathered, management could monitor our every electronic activity.

Our attention was focused on the front end, with its banks of radio and satellite communications devices.

We were cramped in the little space, probably beyond the recommended maximum occupancy limit, but everyone wanted to know what was going on. I and four other people sat in swivel chairs. The rest of the crew stood.

We stared impatiently at the receivers and video monitors, waiting in breathless anticipation as Dennis hovered over the deep space transmission system, pushing buttons and opening computer menus.

"Is _that thing_ at least trapped now?" Spotted Owl asked.

"One of them is," I said.

"One!" she cried. "There's more of them?"

A girl named Kaluki was standing behind her, a plump faced black girl with bleached blonde hair hanging in flatironed curls. Becoming upset, she approached the boss, shouting, "All we did was blow up one wall and call it trapped. What about the people in the other bases? Are you going to let that thing run around and kill people, or are you going to do something about it?"

Dennis glanced back at her like she were an idiot, then continued typing on the computer.

"During the conflict, he sent an All Heads memo about strategic demolition through CANARY," Wes said. CANARY is the name of our planetary communications network. Company Administrative Networking And Relay. "I checked the seismographs. All five bases registered explosive shock wave signatures. The only one we don't have is Base D."

"I took care of it," Dennis said. "I placed the Nitro 9 myself."

Wes tapped some buttons on the seismic computer.

"Uh...was that stuff _new_?"

"Why?" Dennis said. "Did it not go off?"

"When did you detonate it?"

Dennis only sighed. "Sometime after the attack..."

"So they can get out of Base D," Kaluki said.

"We don't know that," Dennis snapped.

"But _there is_ a second one."

The boss man didn't reply to that.

"The airlocks are sealed," Wes said. "If I can get the code key, I can lock down the Hurricane Clamps."

Dennis didn't speak. He just tossed Wes a square key on a lanyard.

The chunky egghead smirked and marched out, whistling as he went.

He typed something on a screen, attached a file, and pushed send.

Clicking buttons on the radio system, he leaned over a microphone. "This is station 9005989C requesting Animal Hazard Protocol. Please send ISPF immediately. Authorization code 050837012448. Identity information transmitted on secured channel Alpha Bravo 714."

He pushed a button, paused in thought, then spoke into the microphone again. "Uncontrollable and aggressive large animal lifeform. Highly resistant to tranquilizers and most physical attacks. Advise the use of military grade weaponry. Neutralization of the animals required for continuation of mining operations."

Dennis flicked a switch, and we waited.

"What now?" I said.

"It's on a repeater," Dennis replied. "Once Schnephru 7 passes overhead, the distress signal will be picked up and beamed back to earth, once the satellite gets into the proper broadcasting position."

Schnephru is the fastest, most functional satellite orbiting the planet. The other ones were made decades ago, so they are unreliable for use in an emergency. Incidentally, 7 is the model number. We don't have seven satellites at our disposal.

"So you're saying this could take days."

He shrugged. "This isn't Star Trek, Miss Ripley. We have to use what we can use."

And so we waited.

For the rest of the evening, we pretty much did nothing except assemble weapons from whatever we could find around the base. Dr. Venn mentioned some saltpeter-like substance in one of the caverns, but we had no way to access it. We instead decided to make do with ammonium nitrate from the farm.

Ideas were tossed about regarding fashioning some sort of bullets out of ounces of Nitro 9, but no one felt particularly inclined to blow off their fingers, and Dr. Venn had no replacement hands on stock.

We had two places to eat meals. Crew quarters and the cafeteria. We generally eat all our meals in the cafeteria. The crew quarters kitchen is just for snacking or any time when we find eating in the cafeteria inconvenient.

Breakfast, for example. If Goto is on duty instead of Mike, breakfast food really isn't part of the menu, and if you're a second late, you don't get anything.

Since granola doesn't need refrigeration and stores anywhere, it's often simpler just to have a bowl in CQ and go on to work. The kitchen _does_ have some, but the cooks never let you dig around in the cabinets, so it takes too long. Also, Mike couldn't cook a corn pancake to save his life.

The cafeteria was plain, just a long concrete box, fenced in stalactite ceiling with a couple renegade shards poking threateningly through the grid.

Two large flat panel monitors were the only decoration on the otherwise barren walls. At one point Mr. Hatch had proposed an ambitious mural project, but Dennis only interpreted this as an indication that he didn't have enough to do. After pulling a couple double shifts, Bruce never asked again, and neither did anyone else.

Both monitors used to work, but now we only had one. They had to gut the other one to fix..._something_ on the base, I forget what. When we had it working, it was always off anyway.

What we had to look at really wasn't worth the electricity. A slide show, the same one we've looked at for an entire month.

Old satellite photographs of the base, coupled with clip art and a message about bonus incentives on this or that valuable ore in extraction quantities of 600 pounds or greater. My team hit the bonus only one time, and when they did, they raised the bar. The screen still hadn't been updated.

Slide two was a list of mining safety tips.

Three was a semi-live feed from the weather satellite, and tips about what to do in the event of a magnetic storm.

Slide three contained tips on water and air conservation, then on four we had a ten minute speech from the company president, thankfully on mute. Sometimes we made up words to put in his mouth as he silently waved his hands.

The Memorials page did not include the recently deceased. It only showed Chuck.

Then we had a bunch of nature scenes from earth, to make us all homesick, with policy information superimposed over them.

After the first week, we had the whole thing memorized. It became like wallpaper to us.

This is what I absently stared at as I tried to forget all the horrific events that happened. I stuffed food into my mouth without even looking at it.

The entire team had gotten together to eat that night, the shift rotation feeding schedule temporarily suspended. It had the feel of a final dinner in an operation that was going belly up.

I had never heard the dining hall so quiet. All the jocularity, yelling, cussing, shooting the shit, all gone. My coworkers glumly picked at their food, Hell's Lice that ranged from blackened to undercooked, mashed potatoes with mushrooms, and corn.

Bland. If Mike and Goto had survived the attack, our food would have actually had flavor. From time to time, the little Chinese lady even cooked up ginger Hell's Lice that almost made you think you were eating real crab legs. Instead, we had to tolerate Wes's tasteless attempts at cooking.

For our drinks, we had stainless steel bottles full of bubbly corn syrup stuff, one of Mike's homebrew colas, another reminder of what we lost.

Brett and I sat across from each other at the end of the long cafeteria table, shoving globs of mashed potatoes into our mouths. Izzy occupied the seat at the foot of the table, sprinkling hot sauce on a leg of Lice.

Lowering his voice, he muttered, "You guys seem to know something that I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

Brett shrugged. "Shit, I don't know. Ellen's spooked about something, and I think it has to do with Cue Ball over there." He cocked a thumb at Dennis.

Izzy stared at me expectantly.

I gave the boss a sideways glance. Although seated at the far end, at the head of the table, I could feel his eyes boring straight into me. For some reason, I was reminded of the stare of the Medusa from _Clash of the Titans_.

I looked away. "Not here," I hissed.

"Can you text it?"

I laughed. "Yeah, like he won't see that."

"Can you at least give me a hint?"

I shook my head. "Let's just say I've had a psychic vision, and I think I know why Tarnisha is avoiding..._him._"

Izzy chuckled, then dropped his mirth when he saw I wasn't smiling.

"You're serious."

I nodded.

"I don't believe you, but I'd be willing to entertain any theories you might have."

"Later," I said.

We fell quiet for a moment, then he snickered.

I scowled. "What's so funny."

"Have you ever seen Hell's Lice crawling around on those giant funguses?"

"Not since I last checked," Brett said.

He grinned. "I think they developed a cream!"

I and my boyfriend rolled our eyes.

"Well," he said, standing up. "I'm going to go check the kitchen to see if Mike still has some of those homemade potato chips squirreled away somewhere."

He disappeared into the door at the rear of the cafeteria.

The moment the spot became vacant, Dennis grabbed his tray and sat down next to us.

I swallowed, looking away.

Brett and I ate in silence, exchanging knowing looks, trying our best to ignore him.

Dennis spoke.

"I don't know what you think you know, but I advise you to keep it to yourself."

He then carried his tray into the kitchen.

I felt a chill run down my back.

"I'm still not sure what he's done," Brett muttered. "But that man looks guilty as sin."

After the meal, Izzy stopped me in the hallway.

"All right. I'm dying to know. What's the big secret?"

I shook my head.

"Let's go somewhere more private," I hissed.

"Wow," he chuckled. "It's _that kind_ of secret, is it?"

Brett crossed his arms, frowning at him. The smile dropped.

I led them out into hydroponics, among the corn and the noisy irrigation machines, and I told them what I saw.

Both of them gave me a suspicious look.

"Granted," I said. "The whole part about me being in a robe, that's bullshit. And maybe events didn't transpire exactly as I described, but you've got to admit that Tarnisha looks shell shocked about something. All I'm saying is, how do we know he _didn't_ kill Craig?"

The two men were struck speechless, grim looks fixed on their faces.

"Even if it's true," Izzy said. "We can't prove anything. The body's got to be gone by now. It's like that runaway bride that guy killed down in Bermuda. The crabs and the sharks got to her remains before they could find any evidence."

"We could ask Tarnisha," Brett said.

Izzy shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Even if it's true, it's her word against his, and you know who's going to win."

"One thing's for certain," my boyfriend said. "Ain't none of us gonna turn our backs to him ever again."

"I'd say that's a big 10-4," Izzy said.

For an entire week, we did nothing but busy work. Pointless tasks in lieu of our typical mining duties. The floors around the base were swept spotless, the beds made, and we all got drafted as farm hands, tilling the soil, composting, seeding, irrigating, with an emphasis on air suppliers like trees.

Our mineral ores were tested and retested for legitimacy, despite how it would have been more cost effective to pass on inferior product to the distributor.

Ordinarily, one sample is sufficient proof of batch quality, but with nothing else to do, we subjected each individual ore to acid tests and scratch tests and all kinds of redundancies. And for all that effort, a day's labor tended to only yield ten or fifteen fakes out of a ton, and maybe a couple weird ones like muscovite mica or fluorapatite. Busy work.

We received a return message at the end of the week. Since Dennis didn't know how to make the cafeteria slide show update, we all gathered in the command center to find out what they sent.

The decrypted file we received contained a dossier with a photograph of a uniformed agent.

Standard white jarhead. The tight lipped face kind of reminded me of a bulldog, thick jowled, flat nose, ape-like eyebrow ridges. The picture seemed to say "Stupid, but fiercely obedient."

"Hoo rah," Brett muttered.

"Base 9005989C, this is ISPF TKT07431058," said a man's recorded voice. "En route to your coordinates. Your orders are fortify, barricade and consolidate forces. Do not engage enemy. Repeat, do not engage enemy."

That was it.

Izzy smirked. "No engagements, huh? What about just hopping in the sack?"

That earned him some stares.

"What."

For the next two days, we did more busy work.

It was on the third day that the ship arrived.

We were in the mineralogy lab, Brett, me and five other people, sorting and testing finds.

The room wasn't much to look at. Square, gray, lined with tall metal tool lockers and crates full of rocks.

"Plagioclase feldspar," Brett was saying, running a finger across one of the translucent rocks I was having trouble with. "See those lines? Those are called `twin striations.' That's how you can tell."

"I still can't tell that apart from quartz," I said.

Brett shrugged and casually threw it into a box.

"You don't need to. This is bullshit."

"We might as well be painting Bruce's mural," Izzy said as he chipped a mineral sample with a small pick.

"Seriously," Kaluki said, shaking a Rorschach stone. "That sounds three times as productive as what we're doing."

"We got a ship!" I heard our communications expert Howard shouting. "They're here!"

We raced to the command center, staring at the radar and satellite images.

"Are you sure?" Dennis frowned.

The squirrely little guy with the mustache nodded, pointing to a readout. "That's the company security code."

Wes frowned. "That was fast."

Shrugging, Dennis said, "They're the best." And he typed something in the computer.

Of course, we were told to "tidy up." You know, to provide adequate welcome for our _heroes_. The trouble was, the place was already pretty tidy, so we just ended up arranging and rearranging things, placing crates of ores by the entrance to the storage bay, in case the SWAT team wanted to ferry a hundred tons of mineral ore back home.

The ship came within our air space, and ground based telescopes gave us the first good look at the vehicle.

We tried to view it earlier using our satellite equipment, but our visitors fulfilled their reputation of being invisible ninja assassins by somehow cloaking themselves from Schnephru's sensors, cameras and deep space telescopes.

The craft we spotted was black, sort of like a Stealth Bomber with extra wings, and engines at the wing tips.

We spotted a red and black flag on its belly, its white center stripe marked with a strange green symbol.

"Isn't that the Iraqi flag?" Wes was saying as he zoomed in on the image.

"It's a multinational corporation," Dennis said with a dismissive wave. "Several men are from Iraq and other areas of the Middle East. There's an entire department specializing in Krav Maga."

"Then why don't I feel particularly reassured?"

"Maybe because you're prejudiced against persons of Middle Eastern descent."

"Some prejudices have their foundation in fact. Some. Not all. _But some._"

The ship descended at a good speed.

Confident that they'd arrive within a matter of minutes, we all gathered outside the main airlock, the tenured people donning pieces of their space suits in hopeful anticipation of being taken home with the agents.

We didn't hear the creatures. You'd think they'd be tempted by all the canned meat in one place, but there were no scratching or banging sounds.

Still, none of us were comfortable with the idea of removing the Hurricane Clamps from the corners of the door.

"You eager to get back to work?" Izzy asked as he fastened a glove on his space suit.

"I don't know about that," Brett said. "But _I am_ eager to not get shipped home in a box."

"You mean _buried_," Dennis said.

Yes, we were all aware of the policy.

"Could you please not be an asshole just this once? I know it's hard..."

"If this were not a time of extreme stress, I would be writing you up for insubordination, Mr. Vickers."

"Well, fuck you very much!"

Dennis glared at him, but surprisingly didn't subject him to a barrage of verbal threats and criticism.

"You think they'll really take us back home with them?" Izzy asked.

"Doubtful," Dennis said. "We don't know what other missions they've been assigned, or how many cryo units they have onboard. They're only contracted to neutralize the creatures and take back as much ore as they can carry."

A collective moan of disappointment traveled through the spacesuit crowd.

"But since you're all suited up anyway, tenured agents will facilitate the process of loading ores."

The agents in question complained and protested, but my mind processed none of it, for at that very moment, the baby decided, for the second time, that he wanted to come out.

This time he wasn't joking.

My legs buckled beneath me and I fell to my knees on the floor, clutching my stomach as I screamed out in pain.

"It's coming!" I yelled.

Brett rushed to my side, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, baby. Breathe."

I puffed in and out a few times.

"Breathe."

"Say that one more time and I'll slap you," I growled.

He raised his hands defensively. "Sorry. Just trying to help."

I tried really hard to regulate my breath, keeping it slow and even, but I was hit by another contraction.

I was dully aware of Dennis yelling to someone to get Dr. Venn, then I saw the man kneeling in front of me like some kind of lineman awaiting a snapped football from the line of scrimmage.

Creepy son of a bitch. Why does he always have to ruin everything?

I tried to ignore him, maintaining my breathing.

And then we heard the knocking.

"What's that?" Tarnisha asked.

Wes furrowed his brow. "I thought they were going to radio first."

Dennis checked his, but it had been alive and crackling the whole time we'd been there.

"Must be a different frequency."

"Those guys sure got here _fast_," Izzy said.

"No kidding," said Wes. "It normally takes a ship a minimum of two months to reach this place, and that's if they're hauling ass."

"Yeah," said Tarnisha. "Why can't we _go home_ that fast?"

"Wait." Dennis raised a cautioning hand. "This isn't adding up."

The airlock door exploded, and a crowd of space suits with red and black insignias marched in, waving around machine guns.

A figure in the center, presumably the leader, yelled something in Arabic, firing off a few rounds into the ceiling. The powdery dust from stalactites rained down. Our ears were ringing.

Chaos ensued. Tenured people put on helmets and oxygen gear, the suit-less people fleeing into the corridors to avoid suffocating, or worse.

The man yelled something else we couldn't understand, then pointed his gun in my direction.

A second later, my boyfriend's head blew open like an overripe melon, blood and brains splattering all over me.

I screamed.


	21. Chapter 21: Birth Pains

Air from the ventilation system rushed out the jagged hole in the airlock door.

Jagalchi had hardly any atmosphere, so the greatest danger was having all the oxygen leak out into space.

For the time being, however, we could breathe, due to all the air blowing out the vents.

I was in shock.

Having a loved one's brains splattered all over your face is not something a normal person can easily get over.

Some of it even got in my mouth.

I wasn't sure whether to spit or to keep it there, so it could become a part of me. To preserve the memory of him.

I know, not normal people thoughts, but I was going through a horrific trauma.

I saw Izzy pick up a spanner, charging at the lead gunman. Not the brightest move for an ex-Marine, but he was angry. Izzy and Brett went way back.

To his credit, he did manage to knock the man's helmet sideways, but before he could pry the machine gun out of the leader's grip, the man hit him with the stock of the weapon, and his goons cut Izzy down with bursts of automatic fire.

The leader finished him off with a shot to the head.

My coworkers, at least, the ones who hadn't fled, now stood with their hands raised in surrender.

I suddenly heard Dennis speaking Arabic.

I stared at him in disbelief as he stepped forward in slow, cautious steps, hands raised, mouth forming strange syllables.

The two exchanged words for a few minutes, then the leader chambered a clip, snarling something else.

Dennis retreated a few steps, saying a few other things I couldn't understand.

He whirled around, sprinting out of the room like an Olympic runner.

The goons fired off a few automatic rounds, but they missed, destroying a pair of crates and a door frame in the process.

The leader's men moved to follow, but he raised a staying hand, motioning for only three of them to run ahead.

I screamed as the baby tried to come out again.

The leader stomped up to me, aiming his gun at my head, shouting at me. Behind the glass, he looked like a dark skinned version of that mad scientist from Disney's _Black Hole_, tar black bushy beard, thick eyebrows, eyes wide and wild looking with mania.

More Arabic spewed out. I would have obeyed if I understood.

I just cried, fighting to keep my breathing stable.

He clicked something on his gun, and I knew he intended to kill me, pregnant or not.

All of a sudden, the man straightened with a look of horror on his brown face, and red liquid splattered across the glass visor of his helmet like syrup inside an out of order Slurpee machine.

A pair of black claws separated his torso from his body, flinging the two aside in a bloody spray.

And then I saw her.

The creature purred as it looked at me, steaming drool dribbling out the sides of its distended mouth.

Heavy breathing, like some kind of creepy pervert.

No, I thought as I cowered on the floor. It was hunger, like I was a microwave, and that thing was waiting for the burrito to finish cooking.

Fighting to keep my breath under control as the baby tried to get out, I crawled backwards on my arms and elbows.

I saw flashes, and the sound of gunfire echoed off the concrete wall as pieces of the creature exploded in a green spray.

With a slow growl, the thing whipped its head to the side and leapt.

I heard a henchman scream, and more gunfire erupted.

The room filled with chaotic activity, feet and legs kicking and stomping all around me in a blind panic to get away from danger. I feared I would be trampled.

"C'mon. Let's get you out of here," I heard Spotted Owl whispering behind me. "We need to get you into the medical bay."

I screamed as pain exploded between my legs.

"Has your water broke yet?" she asked.

"No," I groaned. "And I hope it doesn't anytime soon!"

Spotted Owl sighed. "C'mon."

With some effort, she helped me to my feet, and we hurriedly staggered through the crowd of panicked bodies.

We bumped into the tubby robot doctor in the hallway outside the suit room.

"I just received an urgent summons," he said. "How far apart are your contractions?"

After I had finished screaming out another jolt of pain, I yelled, "I don't know. I don't have a stopwatch, you dumb bucket of bolts!"

I could have been imagining it, but I thought the android seemed amused as he grabbed my other side, helping Spotted Owl carry me.

"You are perfectly justified in your expressions of pain," he said. "Childbirth is a highly stressful and pain inducing event."

"I'd like to see _you_ try dealing with a big creature trying to push itself out between _your_ legs. Give _that_ a whirl and tell me about your fabulous _event_, you walking encyclopedia!"

He paused. "That would be both a fascinating and novel experience!"

I rolled my eyes. "Just get me to the infirmary before the baby drops!"

And so they half led, half carried me past the gym and the mineral storage bay.

All of a sudden, three men in black spacesuits came up the hallway and surrounded us, pointing guns at our heads.

They could have just killed us then and there, but I guess they wanted hostages.

The man growled something, waving us backwards toward the way we came. We had no choice but to obey.

Suddenly, the one with the gun trained on Doctor Venn had a jeweler's pick embedded in his helmet, an expression of pain frozen on his bearded features. His gun went off, blasting out one of the android's eyes as he collapsed on the floor.

The other two men whirled to fire at the unseen attacker, but they saw no one.

Spotted Owl took this opportunity to grab her captor's gun and point the muzzle at the other man. The owner of the gun was already pulling the trigger, so the target fell to the ground in a spray of blood and suit material.

The Indian slammed the butt of the gun into the remaining invader's stomach and shot him in the head.

I glanced at the robot. "I hope you don't need that other eye."

"My optic sensors and internal feedback arrays are still functional," the doctor said. "Unlike a human, I can perceive depth perfectly well with only one eye present."

"I wonder who threw that pick," Spotted Owl muttered.

"Data insufficient," said Venn. "But the weapon was thrown from the gym entrance."

It didn't matter. The baby was coming, and I didn't want to deliver on the rock floor.

We encountered no more invaders. Our crewmates saw us coming and cleared out a space.

I alternated between puffing and screaming as they led me past the storage rooms and into the med lab.

Spotted Owl and the doctor stripped me to a gown, preparing me for the inevitable.

The doctor injected me with a pain reliever, not enough in my opinion, but we didn't want to kill the baby.

And then I breathed and tried to get things under control.

I really didn't want the baby to come out at such an inconvenient and dangerous time, so I didn't try too hard to push Junior out. I wanted him to stay put for awhile. Choosing between having a stillbirth or a brain damaged kid and essentially providing an alien monster human Pop Tarts is not much of a choice.

If he could only stay put for awhile. At least, until those things were gone, or, even better than that, _dead_.

I puffed and groaned for what seemed like an eternity on that table. Spotted Owl told me to push, to which I replied, "I don't know if I should."

She had nothing to reply to that.

And then the young man came in.

The same good looking black man who had calmed my baby before.

Spotted Owl looked horrified, but she wasn't screaming. She just cowered in his presence, looking pale, like she were locked in a lion's cage at the zoo, and the young man was the lion.

I waved at him, giving him a desperate smile. "Hi!"

He smiled back, nodding to me.

Spotted Owl seemed to be frantically praying something in Navajo.

I reached out to the man with both hands. "Help me! Like you did before!"

"Ellen!" Spotted Owl cried. "What the fuck are you doing!"

Venn, in the meantime, was just observing us like a lab experiment.

The man shook his head. "It must happen now."

And then he turned to my companion.

In one fluid cheetah-like movement, he leapt on the woman, drawing his mouth close to hers, as if to kiss it.

A glistening black shaft shot out of his throat, tipped with what looked like cobra teeth. He buried this shaft deep in her throat, and for a few moments, she screamed through her nose, thrashing and struggling under the man's strong arms.

The man spat out a huge glob of slime and plastered her body against the concrete wall.

Spotted Owl gasped for air like an asthmatic under the throes of a serious attack, and then the fight left her.

I shuddered, looking away. I was in no condition to run, so I just...tried not to think about it.

Breathe, I told myself. Breathe.

A brown hand offered me an orange bar.

Cinnamon.

I found myself licking my lips.

Without even thinking about it, I took a big bite.

Suddenly the light switch came on in my brain.

The young man was not really a man.

He was that that big faceless creature from the pit. The one that killed Gina.

The beast, with its no eyed face and Triceratops-like head plate stood next to the examination table, offering the rest of the orange bar, like a character in some twisted TV commercial from the mind of a drug addled advertising executive.

That was when I discovered something even worse.

The orange bar was not orange.

It wasn't even a bar.

I was eating a piece of Spotted Owl's arm.


	22. Chapter 22: Pigs in the Blanket

Letting out a little whimper, I threw the piece of human flesh away from me, sobbing uncontrollably.

How long had I been eating people?

Had the orange bars ever actually been orange bars?

And what was this illusion of the young man? Did these things have some kind of strange power over the human mind?

Was it some sort of hallucinogenic effect from the gases inside the tomb?

Or did I simply experience a nervous breakdown, and these things were merely saving me for a special meal?

Weeping, I shakily climbed off the table, but found my legs unsteady on account of the drugs.

Dr. Venn gave me a supporting hand, but the words coming out of his mouth made me want to collapse on the floor.

"Don't be afraid of us," he said. "You have been chosen for a great honor."

It seemed the spirits of the tomb were not finished using him as a puppet.

I backed away in horror.

As I'm staggering to the door, I see a brilliant flash and hear the distinctive rattle of machine gun fire.

Grabbing hold of the table, I stare through the door frame and see Wes emptying a clip into the creature.

Letting out an outraged shriek, the monster leaps at my would-be rescuer, slicing him open, throat to stomach, as the machine gun blasts the walls, ceiling, and Spotted Owl's body.

I duck as part of the examination table explodes in a cloud of vinyl and polyfiber stuffing.

I see a spiky tail wagging in the doorway, then, in response to more automatic gunfire, I see the dark shape darting out into the hallway.

I had to get out of there.

Still somewhat in a delirium, I took off the gown and put my regular clothes back on.

My first priority was to get somewhere safe, baby or no baby.

"It is unwise for you to travel anywhere in your condition, Ms. Ripley," Dr. Venn said.

"Stay away from me," I growled. "You may be a doctor, but you're working for _them_."

Venn frowned, but made no move to stop me.

"I only provide medical support. I am not programmed to force anyone to make healthy decisions."

"Good!" I said. "I appreciate your concern about my health, Dr. Venn, but I'm pretty sure that giving birth in a room full of corpses with a killer thing running loose in the hallway is one hundred percent fucking unhealthy!"

I crept to the door, checking to the left and the right for anything dangerous.

The creature was nowhere to be seen.

All along the blood splattered corridor were vignettes of violence and death.

Coworkers sprawled on the concrete flooring with bullet holes in their heads and torsos.

Victims mauled to death or cocooned to walls in layers of oily black slime.

Invaders lying in crimson pools, either hacked apart by the creature or killed by the occasional miner that had the balls to fight back.

Seeing no threats in the immediate vicinity, I darted out to the left, intent on maybe climbing into one of the rovers and fleeing to a different base. With the autopilot and the life support equipment, I figured both me and the baby would have a chance.

I retraced my steps, leaning heavily on the bloodstained walls for support, stifling screams of pain as the baby tried to get out.

There was the dead body with the jeweler's pick sticking out of its helmet.

I wondered who had done that. It must have taken a lot of force.

No matter. I staggered on, past a pair of new bodies that hadn't been there before. One of them appeared to have been knifed to death, the other stabbed and shoved to the floor, where the creature had ripped him open.

Someone had taken a knife and carved the words _El Burak_ into one of the concrete walls, though I wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean.

The suit room was right around the corner. A few more feet, and I'd have Big Joe's smelly but roomy suit, making a run for the rover. If the baby dropped into the suit, so be it.

My plans were cut short by a dark muscular man with curried breath shoving me into a wall and forcing his tongue down my throat.

It wasn't a hallucination, though I wished it had been. It was one of those guys from the ship, this one wearing something like a SWAT team uniform.

His dirty beard itched my skin as it pressed against my face, his grimy hands reaching under my top, massaging my breasts, massaging my swollen belly as he purred something in Arabic.

Sick bastard. I shuddered in disgust.

Another contraction hit me. I screamed.

He just laughed and kissed me.

Infuriated, I bit down on his tongue, trying to bite it off.

The man hollered through his nose, then drew back, slapping me hard across the face.

He grabbed me again, trying to pull my pants off.

I heard a loud pop. Blood and brains exploded from the man's head. His body fell limply to the floor.

The shot had been fired point blank from a shiny black pistol, probably stolen from a corpse.

A bald figure with a beard and blood spattered glasses stared back at me.

Dennis.

I never thought I'd be glad to see that son of a bitch.

"How much time do we have?" he said.

I didn't get it. "What?"

He locked his steely blue gray eyes onto mine, puffing out his nose. "Is it going to come out now, or do we have some time?"

I only shrugged. "I don't know. It could come out any minute." And I had another contraction.

The man grabbed me under the arm, pointing the gun ahead of us as he yanked me forward. "C'mon," he said.

"No!" I said. "We need to go out to the rovers!"

"There's soldiers outside. In between you screaming and being about to deliver, we'll be dead before we reach them!"

I clenched my teeth, fighting the pain of another muscle spasm.

"So what's your genius plan?" I grunted with my jaw clamped.

"El Burak is expecting any remaining survivors to flee outside. It's highly doubtful they know anything about the evac pods near the command center."

"Surely they've seen them by now!" I protested. "If I were trying to take over the base, the command center would be the first thing I'd hit!"

"Maybe so," Dennis said. "But their primary goal is financial. Their leader told us to hand over all of our valuable ores."

I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess. You said no."

"Actually," he said. "I told them wait a minute while I go get them."

"While they held me hostage."

I frowned at the corridor ahead of us. "This had better work."

"It will," he said, dragging me ahead. "I'll make it work."

I stopped a few paces down the hall, next to a suited body. "Wait. Those pods aren't made for pregnant people."

He frowned. "We'll figure something out. The baby's coming out anyway."

"Did you throw that pick?" I asked. "At the guy who was attacking me earlier?"

He only shrugged. "Lucky for you, his helmet was thin."

Two El Burak agents stood guard around the passage leading to the control center. Dennis took them out quickly, with one bullet to the head each, making me wonder what was so dangerous about my initial plan of running to the rovers.

As we passed between the corpses, a stab of pain between my legs stopped me in my tracks.

"Now?" Dennis asked impatiently.

I straightened and shook my head.

We hurried down the hall, nearing the entrance of the command center.

The door to the pod room lay at the end, a steel security door with a wire mesh and glass window.

A small figure in a gray jumpsuit marched out of the doorway to the right. Young, small nosed African American, hair done up in cornrows. Her hands held a machine gun, which she leveled at us when she stepped in our path.

"Tarnisha!" I cried. "What?"

"El Burak says you stay here."

"Tarnisha!" I said. "What did they do to you? Who's making you do this?"

She chambered a clip. "No one's making me do anything," she said. "My daughter's got a degenerative spinal condition and this shit job doesn't begin to cover her treatment."

A sob crept into her voice. "They're going to pull the plug! El Burak promised to pay for the operation! I have to do it!" And she aimed the weapon at me. Her hands were trembling, but I think she could have still managed to kill me.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Dennis said.

He raised his gun and blew her head open.

I screamed, collapsing on my knees. "No!"

He grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. "C'mon."

I hit Dennis in the stomach. "Damn you! That was my friend!"

He sighed impatiently, speaking to me in that scolding tone he always used. "I understand this is hard for you, Ellen. She was a friend to me too. Tarnisha was a good worker. We got along fairly well. But she betrayed us, and she wasn't about to let us escape this base alive."

I was crying now. "Couldn't you just have...I don't know, _knocked her out_ or something?"

And then, before he could speak, I said, "You killed Craig, didn't you?"

He backed away suddenly. He probably would have dropped me, had I not been already standing.

"What makes you think I killed him?"

"I...noticed how Tarnisha was acting around you. She knew something."

His eyes bored threateningly into mine. "Ellen, you can't accuse a man of murder on assumptions and rumors. That woman was going through a lot of stress-"

"I saw you," I blurted. "I saw you stab him. It was in a dream, but I saw it. Craig was afraid of the creature coming after you, you needed a distraction, so you shoved a knife in his chest and used his dead body as bait."

Dennis scowled. "We need to go."

"No," I said. "You're a monster. You're no better than those creatures, or the terrorists."

"So you'd rather stay back with them and enjoy their company."

I shuddered.

"Do you even know how to deliver a baby?" I said.

The look I was getting was "no."

"My wife gave birth while I was away on business. There was a...complication. The second one...I fell asleep in the waiting room, so I didn't see anything. The child had Down Syndrome."

"Wow," I said facetiously. "That's great. That's really great."

"We'll figure something out." He yanked me forward.

We hadn't gone but a couple yards when a huge black shape silently descended from the ceiling, blocking our path.

We spun around, intending to flee the other way, but a second black shape had dropped down from the other direction, trapping us in an exit-less stretch of concrete and Haddanium.

We huddled together out of necessity, staring with apprehension at the creatures, which drooled steaming slime as they silently hovered around us like customers at a human buffet. Dennis the glazed ham platter. I and the baby the pigs in a blanket.

All of a sudden, I feel warm liquid gushing out between my legs.

The smell of wheat fills my nostrils as the fluid explodes into my pants.

My water.

It just had to break now.

I was going to have the baby _here_.

Here, with the sociopathic asshole of a boss that knew less than nothing about obstetrics.

Here, with a pair of creatures that seemed ready to gobble the baby up as a snack as soon as it came out.

Here.

Oh God, it was going to happen _here_.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.


	23. Chapter 23: PHARAOH

The creatures could have killed me right then and there, but they didn't. They just stood there, silently observing.

Maybe it was the fact they could smell fear, and the fear I was letting out was the wrong type. You know, like a sick animal that's acting a bit strange because of rabies or something.

"Dennis!" I cried.

Again, the last person I thought I'd be calling for in this situation.

My cold blooded cue ball in shining armor turned to me and said, "What."

When he saw the look on my face, I saw the color on his draining away.

"Must you do that _here_?" he growled through his teeth.

"Fuck you!" I yelled. "The baby comes out wherever the fuck it wants!"

The creatures jerked backwards a step. Not enough to allow our escape, but I guess I managed to surprise them or something.

The one in front of me cautiously crept forward, sniffing me.

I stupidly tried holding my breath, maybe thinking it wasn't going to see me or something, but you can't really do that too well when you're having a baby.

No sudden moves, I was thinking as I froze in place. It was the kind of stuff they say not to do around bears or other dangerous wild animals, and it was probably bullshit, especially since they already knew where I was, and heard me breathing.

The creature buried its face into my crotch, sniffing..._whatever_.

It suddenly jumped back, looking like a dog that had just discovered that a stove was hot.

As I screamed from the birth pains, the creatures sniffed and circled me, intensely interested in the process, paying Dennis little or no attention. It seemed that, in the realm of the human buffet, he was the chopped liver, and I was the pizza.

Each time those things would circle, I'd look up and see him creeping further and further away, one careful step after the other.

"Hey!" I cried in alarm. "Where are you going!"

"Stay here," he said. "I've got an idea."

Reluctantly, I nodded to him, trusting that he'd figure out something brave and clever to get us out of there.

When the baby made me scream, Dennis broke into a stealthy sort of jog on his tiptoes. It almost made me think of a ballerina.

I've heard of people going into labor for five hours. In the dangerous situation I was in, I hoped and prayed that it was true, and the baby didn't pop out immediately. As agonizing as the birth process was, I was pretty sure losing my child and getting torn to bloody pieces was worse. How much worse was up to debate, but worse.

Boop beep beep beep boop.

Glancing back, I saw Dennis with his hand on the security access panel beside the emergency pod room door.

I wasn't exactly sure how he was going to keep those things out of the room, but I was certain he had some kind of distraction planned. He'd shoot something off, or seal the tunnel with explosives, maybe grab some kind of weapon inside the room and fire it off.

"Hurry!" I cried in a loud whisper. "Hurry!"

Beep beep click. The door came open, and he stepped inside.

Okay. No big deal. My heart pounded in my chest, watching with anxious anticipation as he disappeared inside the doorway.

The metal door slid shut.

Why is he shutting the door? I thought. What kind of plan-

"Hey!" I shouted. "What are you doing!"

I tried to run to the door to follow him, but the creatures quickly jumped in my path, growling, blocking my passage.

Not like it would have mattered anyway. I didn't know the code.

Unless he opened it for me...

A bald ox-like face stared out at me through the fenced glass, its expression unreadable.

The face turned away from me, and when it did, I knew exactly what his so-called `idea' was.

I was screaming at him now, yelling at the top of my lungs. "Hey! Are you going to leave a pregnant woman here to die?"

The sound of a rocket blasting off told me yes.

I collapsed on the floor and wept.

"Hey you!" I heard a female voice shouting.

Glancing down the hall, I could see the jumpsuited figure with the light brown face and wavy hair.

Kaluki.

The creatures appeared to glance back for a moment, then returned their attention to me.

Kaluki let out a shrill whistle.

"Hey assholes! What I gotta do to get your attention? Slather myself with steak sauce?"

She was waving her arms, doing jumping jacks, singing, "Tasty tasty, look at me, I am tasty Ka-lu-ki, come motherfucker leave her alone and come eat me!"

The creatures whirled to face her, growling to one another as if holding a consultation.

"What are you crazy!" I cried. "What are you doing!"

"What does it look like I'm doing!" she shouted indignantly. "I'm saving your sorry ass! Run!"

And then she repeated her little performance. "Tasty, tasty..."

When I didn't move, she mouthed the words, "Go!"

She hollered, she sang, she danced, and when the beasts pursued her, she ran, disappearing around a corner.

The creatures gave chase, and I was alone.

Now was my chance. I had to make my move, and make it fast.

I really had only two options. Well, _three_, if you counted giving birth on the floor and dying.

I could either run to the command center, barricade myself in, and have the baby there, or I could try to hack the pod room keypad, lock myself in, and have the baby on the inside or the outside of an escape pod.

Both options had their risks, but I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell to make it anywhere else.

The first option might leave me failing to unlock the door and birthing on the concrete.

The second might involve the creature breaking down the control room door and leaving me trapped in vulnerable in what is essentially a concrete box. There were ventilation ducts, but a grown woman with a baby wasn't going to fit inside any of them.

It was a long shot, but I decided to crack the code. I thought if I could figure out how the tones corresponded to the keys, I just might have a chance.

Our Auto Extractors all required us to enter activation codes in order to operate them. Each one came with its little ten digit keypad. I guess no one got the memo that we were out in the middle of nowhere and we'd be overjoyed to see someone unauthorized take a crack at drilling.

As if this wasn't bad enough, they had to make our codes eleven digits long. The only way we could remember the numbers was to use a mnemonic device, generally corresponding to the old telephone button alphabet. Mine was 62542823224 or "MALIBUBEACH."

Malibu Beach, Utah.

Oh how I wished I were there instead of here, sunning myself, swimming the pacific, maybe snorkeling through the ruins of Las Vegas.

When my AE was broken last month, Brett let me borrow his, so I learned his code, too. 24422462855. "CHICAGOBULL" without the S. "Over a hundred years, and the team's still going strong," he had said.

Technically, they bottomed out for a decade, but made an amazing recovery. Seeing one of their games had been at the top of his "When I get back to earth" wish list.

On another day, I borrowed Si's AE. 46739923278, or "IMSEXYBEAST." Yeah, that's definitely worth an eye roll.

The pod room door panel was also a ten digit pad. If I could only figure out how the sounds correspond to the numbers...

A painful muscle contraction weakened my legs, nearly sending me to the floor, but I put all my weight on the wall, the keypad box, punching the numbers.

In my hurry, I failed twice, the machine flashing red, buzzing at me angrily.

I practiced The Breathing Method, forcing calm into my body.

Breathe, Ellen. Breathe.

Boop beep. Boop boop bee doop.

Invalid Entry.

I was trying to hack the system with Betty Boop. Damn those old cartoons.

Not eleven digits. That much I could be thankful for.

I glanced back. Those things could return at any moment.

Dammit Ellen! Think!

I experimentally poked the buttons, playing it by ear like a piano.

Seven. It definitely sounded like a seven. That _has_ to be the first digit.

If only he hadn't wiped his bloody hands on his pants!

765...SOL. Shit Out of Luck. That's only three.

No, wait. SOLOMON.

Of course! When we first arrived, Dennis was doing his best sales pitch. "All the treasures of Solomon could be down here,' he had told us. `All we need to do is drill through the right rock."

7656666.

Error. Invalid Entry.

Would have been too easy anyway. Can't have non-tenured people jumping in the pods all the time.

Ow! Not now, Junior! Stay put! Mommy's not ready for you yet!

If it's not SOLOMON, what else could it be? What was another one of his favorites? Something biblical but mining related?

What else did he say?

The four tone sounded more likely than the six. Definitely a 74 at the front.

SI? PI?

PHARAOH.

I knew I was grasping at straws, but-

Oh God, the baby!

I stabbed the buttons frantically. 7427264.

Click.

A green light. The door popped open.

"Oh thank God!" I hissed. "Thank Jesus!" And I shoved my way inside, slamming the door shut.

I tried to make it to the pod, but I collapsed on the floor.

There was no more postponing. The baby was on its way out. I pulled my pants off and focused on my breathing.

It was coming.

There were no pillows, blankets or towels. He'd have to lay on rock.

Breathe.

It's safe. I'm safe. They can't get me in here.

More pain.

Oh God, they'll hear me! They'll hear me!

As the pain became unbearable, I grabbed my belt, stuffing it in my mouth.

I breathed through my nose, biting down until the pain lowered to a tolerable level.

I felt the baby's head coming out. At least, I thought it was the head. I couldn't actually see it over the rise of my stomach.

Oh please oh please. Please God.

Please let the baby live.

Whether the baby would be better off dead was debatable, but damn it, it was _my child_. It was _Brett's child_. It was the only thing of value we had left together.

Push, I told myself.

Push.

Somewhere along the lines, I think I must have fainted, for I found myself dreaming.

I was in the purple robe again, dirty with orange crumbs, probably blood and guts.

I was in the rock and concrete corridor outside the pod room, staring at the metal door with its glass and mesh window.

Outside! What am I doing outside! I should be...

Instinctively, I reached for the keypad. My claw flew towards the number seven.

Claw!

I snapped awake.

The baby! How could I possibly have slept with all this pain?

I could only hope the baby hadn't already died.

Breathe. Push.

A dark shape appeared behind the security glass, breath fogging up the pane.

Just stay out there, I thought. Stay behind that metal door. Please God, let it stay out there.

The baby was almost out. Just a little further...

Beep beep beep.

7427264.

It knows the code!

God, how did it read my mind?

The baby. It's almost out. Breathe. Almost out. Just a few more inches, and I'll take him and get into one of those pods.

I crawled backwards on my arms and legs, pushing and puffing.

Closer to the pod.

Just.

A few more.

Inch...

The door slid open, and the creature padded in, lion-like, silently drooling.

The baby. It was almost out. I was almost there. One more push, and it would be out.

It has to be done, I thought. It has to be done.

The creature came close, hissing softly as it reached between my legs.

Oh God, it's going to kill my baby!

In my mind's eye, I could see the thing pulling my son out of my cervix like some kind of mutant midwife, only to twist my son's head off like the cork on a champagne bottle. Or maybe it would just yank too hard and the head would come off on its own.

"You leave my baby alone!" I screamed.

It only growled in response, gently prying the child out of my vagina.

And then I saw it.

Limp and red, two perfectly shaped little arms, delicate little fingers, fat little legs...

The creature lifted my baby with care, pressing his tiny body to its chest.

"I'll take that, thank you," it seemed to be saying.

I would have thought it amusing, maybe cute, but the creature had killed people before, and it wasn't holding him upside down like you were supposed to. With its lungs full of fluid like that, it would surely suffocate.

I reached for the child, but I was too weak from the labor and the ordeal.

"My baby!" I cried. "Give me my baby!"

The creature pressed the child close to its exoskeleton and snarled at me like a tiger with a much coveted side of beef.

It tried to take him away from me, but the umbilical cord was still attached, preventing it from going very far.

Its claws reached down, and I heard a goopy snip as its digits sliced the cord.

The creature purred at me, as if to say, "Thank you for the most valuable gift." And it turned its back to me.

"No!" I screamed. "That's mine! Give it back!"

The beast whirled around and shrieked at me. A deafening noise that would have made a normal person piss themselves in terror, but I had just given birth.

I was the mother bear, and I wasn't about to take any shit, even from a big assed alien monster that made a habit of ripping people open.

"Give me back my baby, you bitch!"

The creature stomped close, its bug legs jabbing me as it pressed its face into mine, growling at me.

"Give. Me. My. Baby!" I yelled.

It roared in my face, a blast of hot air that smelled of rotten corpses and unidentifiable chemicals.

I reached for the baby, trying to pull it out of the creature's claws, but the thing backhanded me.

A wrench lay nearby. I hadn't bothered to use it before then, because I was too busy giving birth at the time, and because I didn't think it would accomplish anything.

Right now, though...

Right now, I literally didn't have anything to lose.

My hand clenched into a fist as I raised the wrench into the air.

"My baby has a right to live!" I screamed. "And you're not going to take that away!"

With my last remaining ounce of strength, I slammed that wrench into the monster's face. Smoking orange fluid and translucent teeth went flying through the air, splattering the floor, a nearby pod, but thankfully not the baby.

The monster's head snapped back, and I saw that I had only succeeded in pissing it off.

The thing let out a bark which seemed to imply, "You just fucked with the wrong monster!"

Still clutching my baby, the creature raised a claw, and in one swift movement, drove its sharp talons through the front of my skull.

In an instant, my intellect was reduced to that of plant life.

I didn't even notice when my life functions had stopped.


	24. Chapter 24: Heartbeats

The gray pill shaped escape pod rose into the sky above the rocky surface of Jagalchi, rocket boosters propelling it beyond the reach of gravity.

It looked like a small missile, aimed at an unseen foe. A missile with a smooth rounded nose, a cylindrical body, and a string-like tail of exhaust.

To any unkind observers, if any remained alive, it might have resembled a large gray tampon, to which they may have remarked that it was no wonder that the world's biggest douche had chosen it for a vehicle.

The interior of this little pod resembled the inside of a beer can. No frills. Escape only. Cryogenics, life support, that's it.

He was lucky to even have windows. Pods 10 to 40 didn't come with them, and if he hadn't known before hand...

Of course, by that same token, he might have also been less stingy with the escape pods.

But, damn it, he needed someone manning the control room. The systems had to be regulated. Contact had to be maintained with the other bases. This wasn't the only facility to worry about.

He stared through the glass, annoyed at how much it reminded him of a recording of the 1969 moon landing, played in reverse.

I never planned for El Burak. El Burak screwed everything up.

And everyone else...well...

There just wasn't enough pods to go around. Our base had a staff of one hundred and twenty five people, and I'm supposed to fit them all into forty pods.

People were lining up to be the first out, but it's hardly fair to save the life of a cook and leave the more valuable team members on the base to die.

and Ellen...

She must have had it coming anyway. The wages of sin is death.

Those things...maybe they were just agents of God's judgment.

But as he stared out the window, watching the ground disappear, he frowned, muttering to himself.

"She was judged fairly. The wages of sin is death."

He said this to himself again and again, like a mantra, but he couldn't manage to convince himself.

He could have done something, but chose not to.

For the company, maybe, but mostly for himself.

"She was judged fairly."

* * *

Bump thump.

When dolphins sleep, they only sleep on one side of their brain. The other part remains active, so they can stay afloat and elude predators.

I wonder if _my brain_ has been doing that.

Bump thump. Bump thump. Bump thump.

A loud thundering sound has startled me awake.

Bump thump.

I reach down and feel it pressing against my chest.

My baby.

That's when I realize that something isn't right.

I'm dead.

That thing ripped a big hole in my brain. There's no way I could have survived something like that.

Unless...

Was it all a dream?

Was all of it, the creatures, the attack, the tomb, was it all a bad dream, a nightmare, brought on my my feverishly overworked pregnancy stressed brain?

I try to open my eyes, but I can't.

Clutching my baby carefully, I reach up, trying to touch my eyes, trying to see what obstructed them.

My hand only encounters a smooth shell.

It's like the outside of a crab.

My fingers slide lower.

I can't feel my nose, either.

My chin...it feels strange, too.

Oh God, what's wrong with me? What is this? Who did this to me?"

I cry for help, but it comes out in a weird shriek.

It sounds...

No. Listen to yourself, Ellen. That's insane. There's no way that could be it. There has to be another explanation.

Bump bump thump! Bump bump thump!

Where is that fucking drum?

I lean closer towards the source of the noise.

Closer.

Bumpthump.

Closer.

Bump thump.

It's my baby. I know it. My baby. He's making that noise. That awful racket.

No wait. That's his heartbeat!

Since when have I become a human stethoscope?

Bump thump!

My baby's alive! He's alive! Oh thank God!

I cradle him close to my chest, fingers gently tracing the outline of his little body. Like a blind woman.

So what if I'm blind? My baby's alive!

Perfectly formed little arms and legs.

Evenly shaped head.

What's this? The umbilical cord is still attached?

Not just attached, _hooked up to something_. The way it hangs in a U shape. There's something there.

My fingers trace the line of the cord, trying to find where the creature cut it from my body.

It stops abruptly on a thing that feels like a vacuum cleaner hose, but narrower.

My God, what is that doing there?

Panicking, I trace the ridges, trying to see where it went.

My fingers stop on a hard bony shaft protruding from my body.

A tube-like sleeve, almost like one of those open mouthed suction attachments you use to clean window blinds.

"What is this," I whimpered. "What in God's name is going on?"

My fingers slid upwards, and then I found myself touching something that felt like plates of armor.

In a panic, I patted myself all over and found more and more of those same types of plates.

Plates.

Not flesh and bone.

Plates.

When I touched my back, I even felt something like saw blades poking out, and a tail.

My jaw distended in shock.

Literally distended. Like a snake. I could feel it when I touched my face.

"Oh God!" I cried. "I'm one of those things!"

I broke into a sobbing fit. "I'm one of those things!" I wailed. Every noise coming out of my mouth sounded monstrous, but I cried just the same.

"Oh God!"


	25. Chapter 25: In Neon

The escape pod rose higher in the air, outside the feeble atmosphere, well beyond the reach of gravity.

The planet now looked like a pearl colored shooter marble, blotched with gray, surrounded by a sea of stars.

Wes and Mr. Duffley claimed to have identified many of them, classifying them into their scientific categories. Type M or Sol or something. They made little digital star charts, distributing them around.

They named them. Actually _named_ them.

Wes went crazy with it, giving a lot of them comic book names.

Mystique.

Raiden.

Green Goblin.

Spawn.

Reed Richards.

Since they obviously didn't have enough to do, Dennis tried to give them extra duties, but Wes had it all figured out. Labor laws, practical applications of said star chart, you name it. They were working the prerequisite hours, so he was within his rights.

That's why, as Dennis stared at an hourglass shaped constellation, he thought of Wonder Woman and frowned.

So far, the boss man had been only taking puffs from the pod's oxygen mask, breathing leftover air from the base. A form of self punishment, perhaps.

Now, as he began to feel light headed from the abundance of carbon dioxide, he sealed the mask over his face, inserting a pair of IV's into his veins.

The temperature of the pod had decreased significantly, using the outside cold to aid the refrigeration process. The IV would act as a catalyst, lowering his body temperature even further, slowing his heart nearly to a complete stop, and thus he would lay for a long time, frozen.

"She has been judged," he breathed. "The wages of sin is death."

* * *

From somewhere on the base, I can hear strains of music. Most likely a radio or music player.

Elton John, singing something about hanging a mule and winding up behind locked doors.

Ironic. A chill runs down my spine.

I try to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

The egg I laid came out empty, just like I knew it would.

My baby, my dear beautiful baby, has yet to breathe the outside air. His umbilical cord still works. Somehow he's getting oxygen.

I think.

I hear a heartbeat, sounding like one of those big kettle drums at the symphony.

Bump thump.

Bump thump.

It must be okay.

The egg somehow senses me approaching, its mouth opening wide, though probably expecting something else to go down into its gooey depths.

I gently place my baby in the warm slime, a second womb to nurture it until it can breathe and stand on its own.

I found a place for the umbilical. It seemed like the right kind of place, but it's hard to tell because it's never been done like this before.

No matter. I did my best, and sometimes that's all a mother can do.

I carefully seal the mouth of the egg, lovingly caressing the sticky shell.

There, you silly egg, I thought. Bet you've never had one of _those_ in you before!

I sensed a mirror nearby, or maybe a window.

No, I think this used to be my bedroom, so it has to be a mirror.

It doesn't matter. I don't want to see this thing I have become. Sometimes being sightless has its advantages.

There is a book, which I think is called the Zhuangzi, and in that book, there is this quotation:

"Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon, I was awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man."

Was I the creature dreaming I was a woman, or was it the other way around? I don't know that either.

But one thing I do know: My boy is safe, and he's going to live.

All I need to do is give him some time, so he can hatch.

I caress the egg, lovingly coating it in a layer of slime. As I do this, the song from the radio continues to echo through my mind.

_She hates how she feels,_

_But she hangs like a mirror,_

_Maybe a stranger could walk in and see her in neon..._


	26. Chapter 26: Epilogue

The elevator was circular, with wood and brass paneling, broken up here and there by four inch sections of glass, through which you could see the city, the maze of crowded gray cubes that served as apartments these days.

On a vaguely Communist looking red carpet monogrammed with a symbol of a crossed pickaxe and lantern, a pair of figures in business clothing stood, a skeletal looking woman in gray tweed, and a bearded man in khakis and a shiny bald head.

"You tell quite a story, Mr. Goldike," the woman said. "A suspiciously Egyptian sounding tomb, complete with mummy's curse."

Dennis wrinkled his nose. The woman positively reeked of cigarettes. "There's a reason why most of this information has been redacted from the final report."

"Right," the skeleton said. Quoting his report, she said, "`The team uncovered a vault containing valuable artifacts, but the location was unfortunately infested with dangerous zoological specimens and filled with toxic gases, and had to be closed off with explosives.

"`Containment was a success, and operations resumed until the terrorist group El Burak invaded the base, releasing the deadly predators upon the facility, wherein they caused more than a hundred deaths and thousands of dollars of property damage.'"

"Solves the problem of the mummy's curse, doesn't it?" Dennis said.

"It seems a bit too convenient. Contrived, even."

"Look," he snorted. "Do you want `the truth' or do you want what actually happened? I can only spin this thing so much without it losing all meaning and coherence."

"A few minor changes," the skeleton said in a sharp tone. "There were no artifacts. They're only _ores_. You didn't uncover a tomb, you uncovered an _irregular cave_. And the next time you feel the dire need to forward a report of this nature to the board of directors, I require you to send it through me first. You're lucky I happened to be in town."

"I'm sorry," Dennis mumbled. "I just heard you were going through chemo..."

"I have assistants, you know!" she snapped.

Dennis grimaced like this were unreasonable, but he didn't say so.

"Now, since you so foolishly decided to go over my head with this one, we're going to have to do some serious damage control."

"Fine," Dennis said.

"Do me a favor. Shut up and let me do all the talking. If they ask you a question, keep your answers minimal."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The elevator stopped with a chime, and the doors slid open upon a solid oak anteroom with a vacant receptionist's desk, a giant metal `coin' bearing the company logo literally filling up one entire wall.

The skeleton led him through a set of double doors, into a boardroom, rows of suits seated around a long mahogany table, framed all around by glass windows.

As they entered, every head at the table turned to look at them.

A rat faced figure in a black suit smiled nastily at them from the end of the table. He reminded Dennis of Nosferatu.

"Ah, Mr. Goldike," he said, waving at an empty chair at the far end. "Please. Sit down."

* * *

Author's note:

Sorry, people. That's it. I'll leave the rest of the story up to your imagination.

I've had this idea in a drawer for a long time. The idea is that people in stories always seem to have convenient pregnancies, unless it's a soap or a medical show. They always make it to the hospital or whatever, when in reality people have their babies on the toilet and all kinds of weird places.

When people give birth, there's not a lot you can do about the location. So I got to wondering what would happen if a pregnant person was in a slasher flick, or a monster movie, and as she's running to the car, her water suddenly breaks.

That was pretty much the whole idea. I didn't really think about it that much until I was writing my ERNIE story and I got a request from a strange person with a pregnancy fetish.

There wasn't much to the idea. Just "what would happen if Ripley's water broke at the worst possible time"? It took some effort to actually make a plot out of it, kind of making a purse out of a sow's ear. I slapped on some bits from Scott O'Dell's _The King's Fifth_ and screwed with them a bit to make them mine. I'm pretty sure if the Mendoza and the Spaniards found a tomb like the one in this story, they would have thought twice about robbing the Indians.

My title started as a joke. I kinda didn't want to write the whole thing, so I did everything I could to make it positively awful. Of course, _Snakes on a Plane_ wasn't such a great title either, but people paid attention to it because it had a funky title.

What I didn't expect was to get as many readers as I did. When I first started, the guy who suggested the idea would send me reminders, asking when I'd write the next piece. And so I'd throw something out there, thinking, "Now _this_ will definitely make him wish he never asked!"

Every step of the way, I threw in the most awful characters and situations that I could think of, and even when the writing fell flat, there were plot holes, and the character names were totally wrong, people kept reading.

Thank you for that. I don't know whether you were recruited by my strange fan, or if you just stumbled upon this story because you like IHOP breakfasts, but I appreciate your readership and all your comments, and hope you find my other stories equally enjoyable.


	27. Chapter 27: Post Epilog

Dear St. Paul's Congregation,

Thank you for all your interest in the Lutheran Mission on Jagalchi. I and Pastor Rapchuck are still alive and well, and yes, we still have to eat those disgusting alien crabs. But they _do_ dress it up so we can't tell what we're eating.

Cindy, to answer your question, the project has been a struggle all the way through.

Becoming a chaplain for a mining colony on an alien planet wasn't easy. I had my church and Lutheran Space Missions backing me up financially, but I still had to prove my worth to the mining company.

I have a lot of respect for the employees of these mineral extraction sites. Each and every one of them had to pass a rigorous physical entrance exam. Timed drilling exercises. Weight lifting. You name it. I think the only thing that would be more difficult would be joining the Space Marines. I just barely passed.

And that's only the beginning. To be accepted in the program, I had to agree to a minimum of ten years in space, not counting the months we spend in transit as human popsicles.

This kind of enormous sacrifice isn't for everybody. I pretty much had to say goodbye to everybody I knew, and give away most the things I own. I mean, they have long term storage places, but a lot of people still wouldn't do it. It's a long time to be away from your family. Your friends. Your wife. Your girlfriend. Your neighbors. Your everybody. A lot of _Christians_ wouldn't do it. But I feel this was what the Lord was calling me to do.

The people of Base Echo are..._interesting_. Most the people here don't know the Lord, and they spend so much time away from the earth that they don't really have a chance to go to church.

There are many _African Americans_ here. At first, they didn't really respect me, on account of me being white. They _kind of bothered me_ about it first, _gave me a hard time_. But I think they're slowly learning to accept me.

What I think helped me was that cavern collapse last year. When all the other men were fleeing the site, _I saved a black man who was pinned under a rock_.

I _could have died_ in that collapse, but _I stayed around_ and made sure he got out safely. When people asked me why I did it, I just told them, "_I love black people." _They sort of left me alone after that.

Let's just say that the language of the people here is..._colorful_. And so is their behavior. Many people living carnally in sin (people on the base rarely get married), many follow other religions, I've even heard of people using drugs. It's a hard life, and I guess they try to cope with it the only way they know how.

The job itself really isn't that exciting. I'm required to spend a certain amount of hours drilling cavern walls apart, trying to find valuable ores. I keep my interest renewed by contemplating the beauty and wonder God put into the entirety of His vast universe, even beauty buried within out of the way places thousands of light years from earth.

We have a modestly sized worshiping community that gathers in a chapel every seventh rotation (we call them `Solar Sundays') and we have smaller prayer meetings on other days.

Thank you for all the donations, by the way. The crew really enjoyed the care packages, maybe some more than others, but it helped.

We appreciate the expensive electric organ you purchased and shipped to us, and as soon as one of us figures out how to use it, I believe we will bring even more people into the flock with our great music.

I'm sure you all have questions about what happened at Base C.

To tell the truth, there isn't much I know about it. We were working different caves. They sent some messages through CANARY about people dying, but I thought it was a cave-in. I heard rumors about a monster, but I thought people were just panicking from being stuck in those poorly ventilated caves for so long. All I know is that when I was drilling one day, people were rushing past me with explosives, and then this massive dust cloud comes blowing through. Apparently they had to close a cavern. Toxic gas or something.

Then came the militant jihadists. None of us heard a peep from Base C after that. For two weeks, we just buckled down, tried to see what the terrorists were doing, whether they intended to come our way, or go back into space where they came from.

They did neither. Their ship stayed on the landing pad. We saw no one going in or coming out of it.

At last, Director of Operations Nathan Meter sent our toughest guys out on a survey mission. They came back alive, and armed.

This is where I come into the story. I got called to investigate the disaster.

Clad in my spacesuit, and thoroughly confused about my objective, I joined a team of three guys in one of the rovers, and we drove across the rocky surface of the planet.

As we drove to the site, Wade smoked an E-Cig, filling the vehicle with the odor. I know those things aren't supposed to smell, but in a confined space like this, the air gets trapped, so we all had to breathe it in. I tried to tell him to put it out, but he just told me something about how the nicotine supposedly wouldn't affect me and kept smoking. It seemed I was the only one bothered by this, for my other two companions, Brian and Freshaur, didn't say anything.

Wade is a pale, thick necked man, troubled by terrible acne. His oddly pointed ears and unusually pronounced canines reminded me of a vampire, but this vampire lived on foods covered in hot sauce and our shipments of spicy V8 Juice.

When we arrived at the base, he pointed out the

The jihadists had arrived in a black ship, big enough to carry off hundreds of tons of ore. Through the windows of our little space minivan, I could see no one anywhere around it. Wade George, our military expert, claims he searched the ship top to bottom and found nobody. Well, nobody alive, at least.

We're still waiting for a word from Corporate on earth about what to do with the stuff. They're hesitant to spark an international incident, so we've been told to leave it alone for the time being, just to take two guns and the oxygen supply.

(MESSAGE REDACTED)

El Burak had used explosives to open the main airlock. Our crews repaired the hole with emergency depressurization kits, sort of a super strong plastic, sealants, reinforcement clamps and a kind of folding metal barrier. I know, useless in a storm, right? But it worked okay for the moment. It even had a door.

When I stepped inside for the first time, I almost threw up. It was the most horrific scene of death and bloodshed I have ever witnessed.

It was like a war had happened in that base. People lay on the floor, some bloody from gunshot wounds, others looking like some animal had ripped them open.

It seemed the jihadists had killed a bunch of people and tried to take over, but the miners fought back. As for the animal attacks, I...still didn't know.

I knelt and prayed for the souls of the dead, but I stopped praying after the fourth body. There were just too many.

The place was desolate. No one alive anywhere. The people that survived the gunshots or the clawings crawled away into corners of the facility only to bleed to death, suffocate, or die from something else.

The oxygen farm was still in operation, and now that things were sealed, I could walk around without a helmet. Even with the breach, it hiding among the plants didn't appear to have done our victims any good, because, between the (APPARENT) animals (ATTACKS) and the gunmen, they didn't end up breathing for very long.

(TRUNCATED. REMAINDER OF MESSAGE NOT SENT)

The animal was not what I expected.

They said there had been two of them, but when I arrived at the base, I saw only one, and it seemed more afraid of us than us of it.

The thing was curled up in a shower in crew quarters, in the back of one of the bedrooms. They said it was Ellen Ripley's room. The name sounded familiar to me, but I still wasn't that fully acquainted with everyone on Jagalchi, especially people in other bases.

Wade told me Ms. Ripley's body had been found in the escape pod room, her head ripped open. Another animal attack. Whether from this one or another, I don't know. They said she was pregnant, and it took her baby, probably killing it.

It was a big black creature, kind of like a beetle, but despite its immense size, it cowered in that shower like a spider being frightened by a match.

When I first saw it, its skeletal arms were wrapped around a slimy green egg.

I heard it had been very possessive about the thing.

"Don't touch my baby!" it had yelled. "Leave him alone, or I swear to God, I'll kill you!"

Up until this point, I didn't know why I had been sent there, except maybe to preside over a massive funeral.

It turns out I wasn't there for a funeral. That job was assigned to the veteran pastor on the base, James Rapchuck, close personal friend of the recently deceased Tom Duzer.

No, this was Wade's idea, and I was there for a different purpose entirely.

"You're not going to believe this," Wade was saying with a sideways grin. "But it keeps crying and saying God and Jesus. I mean, the idea's a little crazy, but I thought, what the hell? You're not doing anything, right?"

I looked at him, looked at the creature, then looked back at him with a skeptical expression. "What. You want me to _preach_ to that thing or something?"

Wade just shrugged. "Just talk to it. That's all I ask. Talk. See what it wants. I've been trying and trying for twenty minutes and I've got nothing to show for it but a dry mouth."

"I've seen him with a dry mouth," Brian said with a smirk. "It's not pretty."

"Just say a few words, and if it doesn't react, we'll take you back to E."

Before I signed up to work at this colony, I didn't believe in extraterrestrials. I mean, I'm a _Christian_. I don't believe in evolution or anything like that, so why would I believe in _aliens_?

But there it was, crouched in the shower with its egg.

I sighed as I stared at the thing, thinking about the seminary lessons I heard about blessing cows and other livestock for farmers.

Some cow.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked. "Wasn't this the thing that tore everyone open?"

"It hasn't hurt anyone the whole time I've been here. All it does is rock its egg back and forth and swear."

Crossing myself, I crept closer to the monster, muttering prayers.

"Hi," I said nervously. "Uh, I'm assistant minister Topher Ferguson. What's your name?"

The creature uttered a low gurgle in response.

I glanced back at the team leader. "This is silly. It's not even-"

Before I could finish, I heard a guttural voice saying, "Ellen."

I stared at the monster in disbelief, too shocked to hear it speak to fully comprehend what it had just said.

I blurted, "What?"

The thing made a low purring noise, creeping closer.

"Pastor," I heard it softly growling. "Something's wrong with me. I feel very strange. Could you please pray for me?"


	28. Chapter 28: Wade George

Yeah, Topher Ferguson became my pet project the first day he showed up.

Skinny little preppie kid from Overland Park. Kansas suburb.

Poor guy. Never seen a black person before.

Me, I've been to jail. B&amp;E. I came out to this rock because no one else would hire me.

Topher, on the other hand, I don't know. I think someone put something in his communion wine. He's not really built for this kind of work, but he seems to think God sent him here to "save the lost."

That story about saving the miner from the cave-in? Didn't happen. I think some people try to make a place mundane as a public school sound like Burma or Afghanistan, you know, some terrible persecuting place, to jazz things up and get people to sponsor them or something.

Seriously, the people on the base are pretty cool. I think the little weenie just doesn't know how to take a joke.

If he made friends with any of them, it's probably because I took him around to meet everybody. I could see the kid's eyes bugging out behind those square glasses he always wears. I thought he was going to faint.

Anyway, roughly a week and a half after preppie boy arrives, we had the incident.

Let me tell you, I _so_ wanted to go over to that base and kick some ass.

Every day, I asked the people in charge, can I go over there and help out? They look like they're in trouble. But nobody wanted to do anything. They just sat on their hands.

Me and my buddy Brian, we found some binoculars, the kind with the electronic gizmos that let you zoom in on objects a mile away, and we just stared at the place, watching everything fall to hell.

The terrorists came down in a Virgin AX429. American make, but patched together.

I knew enough about Corporate Security to know they rarely used pieces that sophisticated, banged up or not, and in between that and the Arabic markings on the doors and the Iraqi flag, I don't know why they cleared it for landing. Idiots.

If I had a way over when the attack started, I would have been there. But they already blew the tunnels to stop their "gas leak" and you had to sign out the spacesuits and vehicles, so I was stuck where I was for the duration.

Damn.

And so I just did my job and went about my business like nothing was wrong. I mean, fuck, what else _could_ I do?

After they caught me sneaking out to the rover during second shift, they threw me into the brig and tightened security. There literally wasn't any way for me to help them.

When it was all over, it took them more than two weeks to even begin to suggest sending people to inspect the damage.

Naturally, I wasn't the first person they sent. The first team was Mr. Freschaur, Brandon Jones, and Sam Middleton, whose head only came up to my chest. Sam's, not the other guys. Brandon was a big son of a bitch. I'm not sure why Nate picked them as opposed to us, except that maybe it had something to do with Middleton being a martial artist.

The guys found a man in the AX, just one. They probably should have killed him, but instead we've got him locked up in the brig. A disaster waiting to happen, if you ask me.

At any rate, me and Brian finally got the green light and we searched the bird from front to back. Brandon and Sam stood guard around the outside, kind of searching the premises for signs of the enemy. We all expected them, I mean, the ship's still there, right? But lucky for us, nobody showed up.

The place reminded me of a beat up submarine combined with a jumbo jet. Little cramped crew quarters with bunks, an exercise room, cryogenics bays and storage rooms full of loot.

I'd like to say that these guys were one hundred percent completely evil, but I'd be lying. I saw a bunk with children's toys and pictures of a woman and a kid.

These men had wives, girlfriends, pets.

Normal, regular people.

Well, except for the whole "Breaking into a base and killing everybody" thing.

Some people chalk this kind of thing up to religion, but I know better. Unless it's a suicide attack, it's all about money, in some way shape or form. Lord knows Base C had a lot of it.

Oh, and I found Hostess Ding Dongs. God, I missed those things.

The weapons cache was locked, but, well, _you know_. Let's just say _I've got skills_.

We got their guns, their oxygen, and..._some other things. _I wanted to take a hookah and some flavor packs, but the guys said no. I still slipped some hash into my pack, as well as some Arabic porn and some tasty curried shit I can't pronounce.

Oddly enough, I found the porn hidden under a Koran.

The base was fucked. The door was blown up, air leaking out the entrance. Just about everybody was dead.

We took photographs of the bodies and sent them through CANARY, stopping every so often to refill our air supply with the farm ventilators, and to eat.

Ah, Ding Dongs...I'm drooling just thinking about them.

Yes, yes. The victims' pockets were mostly empty when the burial squad carried them off. Maybe I _did_ take a _few things_ out of their pockets, but what of it? It's not like they're going to sit up and tell me to put it back.

Anyways, the official story I tell..._officials_ is that I only looted the pockets of the terrorists, because, you know, they deserved it.

Mostly, I took the nicotine, because it's hard to come by in this place.

We ID'd, I don't know, hundreds of bodies. We just went from room to room, snapping pictures. I felt like a war reporter or something, but I didn't care. It was either that or going back and drilling rocks all day, and you _know_ I didn't want to do that!

According to other people on the network, five people were still unaccounted for, and that's not including their medical android.

Two of them we got details on.

Craig Lahaye, whose death report had been posted by Dennis Goldike but not processed through the system like the other cave-in victims, and Manager Dennis himself, apparently the only one lucky enough to access the escape pods.

Saved his own sorry ass. Left everyone else to die. Nice guy.

He probably had his reasons.

So that left three unknowns: Gina Martinez, Brittany Murphy and Peter Miringu.

We didn't find them.

_The thing._

Yes..._the thing._

The prospect of seeing real extraterrestrial life on Jagalchi was the one big bright spot in my whole, what, _fifteen year_ _career _at this shithole job.

In fact, while off the clock, so to speak, I like to go down into caves and fuck with the Hell's Lice, teasing them, feeding them different things, playing music, twisting their legs around, scaring the hell out of them...hilarious.

Probably made it hard for them to catch the damn things, but they tasted like the back of somebody's balls anyway.

So yeah, I wasn't exactly scared when I heard about _the creature_.

I saw all the ripped up bodies, but the only thing it told me was to _be careful_. I still wanted to see it. I was practically wetting my pants with excitement.

It was a messy eater. What I saw was a _little_ gross.

The victims were all missing body parts, legs, arms, feet...on a couple, it even seemed to do what they do with crawdads. You know, "Suck the head, bite the tail."

One of our guys tossed his cookies when they saw them.

_Two separate rooms_, so he actually dry heaved on the second round.

I swear it was Freschaur, but nobody believes me.

They say he was in the army, but I don't think he saw any action.

I know because I was there, and I definitely saw him puke.

We found Ellen's body in the pod room.

God, what a fucked up way to die.

Stabbed in the brain, right while she was giving birth.

I saw a small hole in the bottom of one of her feet, like she'd stepped on a nail or something, and it rotted out. The hole was black, and it seemed to go straight through her body.

I wasn't sure what to think about it, except that Tetanus probably wasn't good for the baby.

Speaking of which, I didn't see Ellen Junior anywhere. I was almost a hundred percent certain that the thing ate it. Baby meat is probably a delicacy for them.

Dumpling meal please, hold the MSG. Thank you, I'll eat it here.

We don't visit Base C very often. I've been there a few times for special meetings or one of our rare parties. I _vaguely_ remember someone throwing Ellen a baby shower.

They have some sweet equipment over there. The TV in our entertainment room isn't half as big as theirs, nor does our crew area have its own personal kitchen.

Another thing. They have their own _separate showers_. None of this high school locker room shit.

Okay, so some of them still have the group shower, but the others..._not fair_.

I almost shit myself when I saw the creature.

I was whistling to myself, checking the individual rooms... (nothing here, nothing there...), getting kind of overconfident...so, hey, I thought I might as well stop in one of the restrooms to drain the ol' lizard.

Damn near drained the lizard all over my spacesuit.

The thing was in the shower, clutching that _egg_. Just rocking back and forth, _singing something_, _I guess_.

I think it actually looked startled to see me. I almost think I heard it say "Jesus." If I _did_ scare it, the feeling was mutual.

I popped out of there double quick, hiding around the corner as I stared at it, my heart almost up in my throat.

I readied my machine gun, clicking the safety off, chambering a clip.

I looked around the corner again and saw the creature hadn't moved. I guessed it wasn't hungry after all those corpses, unless it was trying to trap me.

I grabbed a pillow on one of the beds and threw it at the beast, quickly backing out before it could get to me.

I could have sworn it said, "You know how stupid you look?"

"Did you just say something?" I asked it.

It only shook its head and muttered, "God."

"Can you...talk?" I asked.

I could barely hear it, but I think it said, "Jesus, what a buffoon."

Well, anyways, that's where I got the idea.

As I said before, I like to fuck with aliens.

But before I get to that, I have to tell you about the egg.

Big assed green thing. Slimy. The monster kept cooing and rocking the thing back and forth like a real baby.

The screwed up thing about it was, I thought I saw an umbilical cord hanging out the side.

I mean, it seemed to belong there, being connected to the shell, but it was the wrong color, kind of a red-purple instead of green like the rest of it.

I got Brian to cover my back as I stealthily crept up and tried to grab it.

That's when it shouted and threw me at the toilet.

If it had been porcelain, we would have had a flood, but it wasn't, so, with a bruised head, I staggered out the door.

We took this as our cue to leave.

I knew that I'd get searched the moment I stepped through the home airlock, but I also knew the searches were rather..._cursory_, so as soon as we got in the rover, I hid as much stuff on my person as I could.

They mostly focus on the spacesuits and packs, because that's what you presumably wore the whole time you were there. Presumably. You wouldn't risk draining your oxygen supply or depressurizing your suit to, say, stuff a few packages of Iraqi hash into your underwear, or slip some E-Cigars into your socks.

I also used magnets to clamp some bigger stuff to the bottom of the rover, which I'd figure out how to retrieve later.

I put a false bottom in the pack. I'm really proud of that one. _You can't even tell_. That, and the secret side compartments.

I had to spend the rest of the night drilling. That was the deal. But I didn't care. This was the most interesting thing I'd done in months. _And_, thanks to all the intel I'd gathered, I only had to pull a half shift. _Top that_!

The idea for our little missions trip quickly developed into a plan while I was attending Solar Sunday.

Pastor Rapchuck's services aren't exactly riveting, so I stare off into space a lot.

That's a metaphor. You can't actually see space from the chapel.

Anyway, as he was preaching about the peace of God, I found myself absently staring at the new pastor's aide.

The guy was as clean as a newborn baby.

Little dainty hands. Didn't even look like he had _touched_ a drill.

Clean shaven, fancy haircut from one of those expensive gadgets he brought with him.

His spotless, brand new alb with lace trim made him look like a doily.

And those ridiculous square glasses with the thick rims.

It wasn't just his appearance that made me want to work on him. It was the way he was always nervously standing around like he had his thumb up his ass all the time.

What bugged me was that he hardly _did_ anything, even during service.

He _needed_ something to do.

And so, after service, I spoke to the pastor about it.

Let's just say I got a little _creative_ with the details.

The alien in the shower became a "survivor", camping out in hydroponics.

I told him some story about how this imaginary woman pretended to be dead so she could hide on the base, that her friends had died and she had nothing left to live for, yadah yadah yah, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.

I told him _I'd hate_ to take him away from his important duties, when he clearly had a _trainee_ that seemed desperate for new opportunities to serve the Lord.

I don't know what Rapchuck whispered to the guy, but we had him convinced enough to come along.

So...you know we brought him to the alien.

I could see his Adam's apple bobbing on his pencil neck the moment he stepped into the room. Me and Brian were covering our mouths, snorting, right about to bust a gut laughing.

We had to really fight to keep a straight face when we told him about his mission of mercy.

When I first saw him praying with the thing, I _really did_ thing they slipped something into his communion wafers.

I mean, I'm not the greatest bible scholar, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any passages that say, "Go ye therefore into space and preach to little green men."

It made me think about that old joke about the missionary and the lion. Maybe _the alien_ was just saying grace, and he only _thought_ it was a lost soul. We kept our guns ready, just in case.

I've seen some weird shit in my life,but this one took the cake.

A big assed bug thing, folding its hands, or claws, and asking Topher to pray for her "baby" that happens to be inside an egg.

After that, the thing actually got _chatty_.

"You'll have to excuse me," it said. "I really can't sit on the toilet anymore. I sort of had to go in the shower. It doesn't smell bad, does it?"

Topher stammered no, but he probably would have said it if the thing smelled like a sewage treatment facility.

Get this. The thing actually _opened up_ to him.

It started to tell us a story.

Some crazy shit about a tomb down in the caverns and waking up as a monster.

It spoke for _twenty minutes_.

What do you do when a big assed alien creature gives a speech, but listen to it?

None of us said anything. Brian just froze like a statue, puffing an E-Cig through the little slot in his helmet made for fluid intake.

In my humble opinion, the whole story sounded a tad far fetched, but I would have believed anything coming out of that deformed ooze dripping mouth.

What bothered me more than that were the unanswered questions.

"If you really are who you say you are, how did you end up in that big alien body?"

"I...don't know," was her reply. "Maybe the gas or something in that chamber..."

"Are you sure you weren't an alien before, and you just inhaled some gas that _made you think_ you were originally a person?"

It let out this animal shriek, to voice her upset or something, I guess, then chilled out and said, "I don't know. I mean, why would an alien come up with such a dull and depressing fantasy?"

_That_ gave me pause. People with dull and depressing lives often make up fantasies to escape them. But when's the last time you've heard of the reverse?

I really wasn't sure how she'd know all of that information if she wasn't who she said, unless the things could read minds, or gain people's memories by eating their brains or something. The explanations were not forthcoming.

In fact, I was doubtful we'd ever get them.

And the baby...we wouldn't know anything about that unless we opened up the egg...or stuck it under an x-ray machine.

"Maybe something happened to her during an out of body experience," Brian suggested. "Maybe her soul had nowhere to go, so it went into this thing."

"That would imply that the creature is in there with her."

My beady eyed friend shrugged. "Maybe it is."

We all stared at the creature thoughtfully.

"Presuming it is actually Ripley in there," I said. "Should we take it back to the base with us?"

"I wouldn't," Brian muttered, taking a drag of his cigarette. "They'll probably try to kill it or dissect it, if it doesn't kill them first."

"I'll be fine, gentlemen," the creature said. "But I would like someone to check this egg. I think I can still hear a heartbeat, but I might be going crazy."

All three of us stared at each other.

Brian was giving me this crazy look like, "You want to listen to it?"

Topher's face was saying "Hell no, I'm not going to do it!"

And of course we're all wearing space helmets anyway.

If the air system had been up and working, I probably would have just pressed my ear against the damn thing. I decided we would have to come back with a stethoscope or something.

"What about your medical droid?" Brian asked. "Varney? Vince?"

"Venn," the creature said in a low growl. "His name is Venn, and I really don't trust him."

"You want me to send a doctor over here?" I said. "I'm sure we could get _someone_...a biologist, at least..."

"Would you?" It climbed out of the shower, causing Topher to retreat in fright. "I'd really appreciate it."

I nodded. "No promises, but I'll try my best."

Well, you know, we had our fun, but we couldn't sit around in a base with no air and hang out with a monster all day, so we headed back through the compound.

As we were nearing the temporary airlock that lead outside, I heard Brian saying, "Uh...Wade?"

I spun around, thinking it was a joke, maybe some important machinery breaking down or something. You know, a flood of water coming out of a pipe, something kinda funny but serious, but not serious enough to holler about.

What I saw was the creature.

"Whoa!" I cried with my hands raised, one holding a gun. "Don't _do_ that! You're scaring the piss out of us!"

The creature didn't reply.

"Look," I said. "If you want to come with us to the base, it's cool. I'll tell them you're coming. We'll work something out."

"Wade..." Brian said. "Uh...I..._don't think that's who you think it is_."

I stared at him, then the creature, then the hallway behind the creature.

"Wait," I said. "Where's Topher?"

Brian shook his head. "Got me."

000000000000000

Author's note: It seems I have some leftover sow's ear to work with. Not really sure where this plot is going, but I'll continue to post these random scenes until I run out of ideas.


	29. Chapter 29: Worms

I placed another human heart on the electronic scale. The weight was consistent with a man who bled to death from an animal attack.

The company was looking for insurance loopholes.

Say, for example, if one of them committed suicide before the animal chewed on his body. That's one claim they don't have to pay.

Or another hypothetical example: The man is overweight and his arteries closed up on their own before the thing even touched him. That saves the company forty five percent on reimbursement.

My reports are scientifically accurate and unbiased. If the company wants to redefine an animal attack as pylon damage from a cave-in, it's not my fault. I just document what I see and write reports.

So far, only one of the victims from Base C appeared to have died from anything that could even remotely be construed as suicide. The man had already been suffering from near fatal wounds when the creature came after him. I'll leave that one up to the jury.

I _did_ find a case of an overweight man who had a pre-existing heart condition before the creature invaded the base. Evidence is leaning towards him dying before the creature actually touched him. If the company wants to split hairs over that, that's fine. I'll check the news and see how they do in court.

"Julia, will you come take a look at this?" said Clifton, my beak nosed intern. He was looking at the cadaver of Ellen Ripley, one of the few unfortunate drill techs that neglected to take their contraceptive shots until it was too late to do anything about it. He held a control pad in his hands, steering a tiny remote control camera up a hole in the woman's foot. The image on the screen reminded me of a view from the bottom of a well.

"Jeezus," Clifton said. "It's like the mother of all tapeworms crawled up inside her femur and went to town!"

I moved the camera, examining the sides of the wound.

The walls of this worm tunnel were not continuous. There were regular depressions all along it, looking like the interiors of insect bites. Something had not only drilled into this woman, it had also set up several back doors, apparently to access whatever part of her body it wanted.

Clifton frowned. "How the hell did she walk?"

"She was pregnant," I said, handing back the remote. "She probably wasn't on her feet very often."

"And she never once looked at her heels."

"It's difficult to say what happened at this point, but I would like to point out that, during pregnancy, women tend to get rather swollen, not only around the stomach, but also around the ankles and feet." My intern blinked several times. It seemed that this information was all new to him. "Keep going. I want to see how far it goes."

The robotic camera whirred sideways.

"That's the spinal column," said Clifton.

I rolled my eyes. "I know where the spinal column is, thank you."

The wound trailed upwards, resembling a crooked red straw stuck in a purple milkshake. A crack of light could be seen at the end, looking more and more like a partial solar eclipse the closer the camera got to it.

"You ever see _The Ring_?" he asked.

"I don't see a ring," I said.

"No, no," he replied. "Old horror movie. Killer video tape. Anyways, all through the movie, they show a view from the bottom of a well, which is the last thing the dead girl saw before she drowned."

I just stared at him.

"Never mind."

The robot climbed upward.

"The worm...it crawled this far up her spine, without causing paralysis. At the very least, she should have been in a lot of pain."

"She's pregnant," I said. "Try being pregnant and not being in pain. Especially in the back."

"Unbelievable," Clifton said. "Un-fucking-believable."

The wound channel continued all the way to the brain stem, the light, of course, coming from the gaping crater the animal had ripped in the front of her skull.

"Wait," he said. "What's that?"

"What's what?" I said.

Clifton turned the camera sideways, and we saw it.

A pulsating gray-green string, with rows of near microscopic writhing filaments sticking out of it. The string had wrapped itself around the folds of Ellen's brain tissue in a seemingly endless network, reminding me of photographs I'd seen of late stage heartworm infestation.

"Oh God," Clifton said. "Tell the cooks to cancel my lunch."

"Did Ms. Ripley ever report any psychological disturbances?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Their medical android reports nightmares. That's about it. But..."

I frowned. "But."

"Um, I don't know if you want to hear this. It's just a rumor. A story."

"You're right," I said. "I don't want to hear it, but tell me anyway."

"Well," said Clifton. "Wade George and his friend...Billy?"

"Brian," I prompted.

"Right. _Brian_. They said they interviewed the creature, and it told them a long story. Something about seeing what the creature saw, right after she entered that so-called `burial chamber' people are talking about.

"You think...maybe...that this worm...I don't know...dug into her foot when they were exploring that place, and somehow transferred her consciousness into that big creature they're keeping in her bedroom?"

After a little coaxing, I got a more detailed synopsis of this ridiculous theory, which is as follows:

When Ellen entered the hall of ghostly mirrors in this mythical tomb, she noticed a few of her companions wandering through the looking glass, wherein they were attacked by alien parasites and died.

In a scenario similar to that old movie, _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_, the woman was faced with a series of choices that bring death to anyone who makes an unwise decision. Instead of chalices, she is faced with windows, or doorways, leading to various things she desired, one of which being the son she believed she would soon have, wealth, revenge, comfort, whatever.

Clifton thinks that this was a vision induced by a hallucinogenic gas.

True to mythic formula, true love, the love of a parent, was the correct treasure to pursue, with non-fatal results. The other mirrors, of course, contain deadly worms.

Clifton theorized that _they all_ contained deadly worms, and, as much as Ellen obsessed over avoiding them, she couldn't see anything in the fog beyond that looking glass, so the worm slipped into her boot undetected.

From that moment forward, Ellen had a psychic brain link with the creature. This is problematic when you consider the question of why nobody else who entered that room experienced such psychic or psychological disturbances. Unless there was only one worm, her boyfriend, Dennis, and the others, should have suddenly hallucinated about being alien royalty, eating human flesh, having out of body experiences and what have you, becoming their own monsters...or becoming absorbed by the creature in Ellen's bedroom.

I sighed. Clifton was an amateur science fiction novelist, and it showed.

"Cliff? Could you do me a favor? Stop writing scifi for awhile and do a romance novel. A western. Anything but _Weird Tales of the Paranormal_. It's affecting your work."

"Oh yes. And autopsies are _so_ romantic."

"Any particular reason your writing has to be inspired by your life?"

He shrugged. "Write what you know."

"Fine," I said. "Get started on your new medical drama. Give me some samples of that infected brain."

Cliff blanched. "Oh sick."

"Not any sicker than that sample page you asked me to read last week."

He wrote a story about an intelligent extraterrestrial bubonic plague, one featuring the most disgusting attributes of just about every disease known to man.

Actually, that wasn't the worst part. It was the sex scene at the end.

Clifton snapped on a pair of gloves, carefully picking pieces of Ellen's skull with a tweezer.

He leaned closer to the body, peering in the cavity the beast had ripped in her head.

"It's a little dark," he said. "And the thing's wrapped around her hippocampus. I'm going to have to cut her open."

Without warning, the worm shot out of Ellen's dead brain tissue, burrowing into Clifton's eye.

He screamed, trying to rip it out, but it only divided into two separate worms, the other one burrowing into his wrist.

He collapsed on the floor, thrashing and foaming at the mouth.

I have medical training, but I called Doctor Barnett as backup.

A minute after the call, Cliff abruptly stopped thrashing, pulling himself up on one of the tables.

"Whoa," he groaned. "What the fuck?"

A fat red faced walrus mustached man waddled in, staring at the trainee. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know," I said. "He just got a tapeworm in the eye. What do you think?"

The doctor turned Cliff around, tugging at his eyelid.

"I...don't know what to tell you. Threadworm larvae usually enters the body through an open wound or by orally ingesting it. I've never heard of one that makes its own wounds."

He suggested a few remedies for your typical worm infection. Albendazole, ivermectin, melarsomine hydrochloride, that kind of thing. We had a case of the stuff lying around for emergencies, though up until this point I doubted it possible for anyone to _find_ a tapeworm with which to get infected, to begin with.

"You might want to combine them if the first one doesn't work."

Not really helpful.

"Thanks," I said. But I thought, For what?

As Barnett was leaving, I heard Cliff blurting, "I know where the animal is. I can _see_ it!"

And then he staggered over to a tray containing a chunk of human flesh we'd cut from a body for testing.

"Ooh! I _love_ cinnamon. Can I have this, or are you going to eat it?"


	30. Chapter 30: Egg

We placed Cliff in a quarantine tent, to make sure he didn't spread the infection to another host. He claimed he was fine, but I didn't want that worm getting out.

Imagine my horror upon hearing my next assignment.

The egg.

The door had been repaired, the air systems at full capacity, but I still kept my spacesuit on, for this very reason. After Clifton, I didn't want to walk a step without full biohazard protection.

Paranoid about the worms, I even donned a liner from my ABC gear for extra protection.

The creature was understandably protective of the egg, insisting that she accompany me all the way to the medical lab.

The results of the holographic sonogram defied everything I understood about biology.

Initial imaging confirmed the illogical `Ripley' account. There actually _was_ a human fetus inside that egg.

Alive and healthy.

X-rays and MRI supported the results.

Somehow, in place of a womb full of amniotic fluid, a _baby_ was living in a soupy sludge of unidentifiable chemicals, and stranger yet, its umbilical was still attached.

Healthy heartbeat, muscle and bone growth consistent with that of a newborn infant.

"What do you think, doctor?" the creature asked, like I was some kind of obstetrician. "You think it's safe to take him out? I mean, he's been in there at least a week. Shouldn't he be at the breastfeeding stage by now?"

"Why are you asking me?" I said. "You're the one who put him in there, weren't you?"

"My _body_ did," she said firmly.

"Then what does your body say about it?"

"I thought you were a doctor."

"Of _science_. And this baby, it shouldn't even be alive. This...shouldn't work. The acid levels in this egg..."

I leaned over the egg, peering at the sticky flaps through my helmet. "May I open it?"

"Be my guest," she said. And then, "If he does come out alive and healthy, I think he's going to need to feed."

I stared at her in disbelief. "You want _me_ to breastfeed your baby."

The creature gestured to its flat armored chest. "Do I _look_ like I can lactate?"

I laughed. "And you think I can."

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm infertile. Never had a kid. The dairy is closed."

"Damn," said the creature.

"If the baby is normal," I said. "I'll find someone, or we'll synthesize a formula."

I grabbed one of the flaps with my forceps, peeling it back.

The interior was filled with a gluey, sticky substance that encased the child's head like shrink wrap.

I peeled back the other flaps, making a light incision on the outermost layer.

The baby exploded from the egg, latching onto my face plate.

The child had no eyes. The scans had been deceptive.

It opened its mouth, and a leech-like sucker planted itself on the glass.

I also realized, far too late, that the child also had a whip-like tail, twice the length of its body. In the scans, I had erroneously documented that item as a piece of the surrounding egg.

The tail was now wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air out of my windpipe, through the suit.

Four spider-like legs burst from the child's sides.

The glass on my faceplate shattered.


	31. Chapter 31: Catherine

I awoke naked in the dark, encased in a womb-like pod filled with a warm sticky substance.

Although somewhat frightening, the substance felt comfortable on my skin, and my breathing was not impaired, so I found myself drifting off.

The moment my eyelids began to close again, however, I found the walls around my opening up, petal-like, exposing my unclothed body to the cool outside air.

I took in my surroundings in a state of dazed bewilderment.

I was in an underground concrete tunnel, one half submerged, like a sewer. All around me, I could see other pods, each spreading open to reveal the nude bodies of unfamiliar men and women.

These strangers stood up and stretched, stared at the other pod people, leaned over the sides of their plant to examine their surroundings.

As one young woman laid on her stomach, peering down below her pod, a massive black tentacle, like an octopus, with long wiggling threads bursting from its underside suddenly erupted from the water, dragging her into the depths with a scream.

The next one came for me.

I screamed and sat up in bed, blinking several times to get my bearings.

I was still naked. I appeared to be in some sort of doctor's office, spread out on a medical examination table. No windows. Concrete walls. A flat panel TV was showing a documentary on the Everglades.

It was the standard setup. Blood pressure gauge, diagnostic computer, otoscope with disposable caps, portable defibrillator for emergencies, and a glass case with other tools in it, one being a plastic diorama of the human urinary system.

A talking tortoiseshell cat in _Baby Looney Tunes_ scrubs marched up to my table, smiling at me.

I rubbed my eyes several times, furrowing my brow as I stared at it. "I must be...hallucinating," I said.

The cat grinned, baring its pointy fangs. "I get that a lot."

It must have noticed my look of dismay, for then it said, "Your brain is not malfunctioning."

The cat offered a gloved paw. "Catherine 6-500, synthetic medical assistant. You can call me _Cat_, of course...I was designed for pediatrics, but there was a clerical mistake, so now I am reformatted for general service."

I didn't shake the paw. She put it down.

"So that's why you're a cat," I said.

She nodded. "It makes children more comfortable."

"You have breasts," I pointed out.

"So do you," she said with a smile.

Noticing me rolling my eyes, she gave her bosom a demonstrative bounce. "It helps establish the image of an adult female authority figure."

"I suppose it's better than Doogie Howser," I muttered.

Catherine grinned. "Some med synths actually _are _modeled after television characters. I have heard about a _Beverly Crusher_, for instance."

"Who?"

"It's from Star Trek. I believe that one is rather expensive due to the adult sex modules. She's quite popular with the big Utah film studios, especially in the Hollywood area..."

"I was never big on science fiction." Not wanting to delve any deeper in the subject, I stared at the rock walls. "Where am I?"

"You are on Jagalchi."

"What is that?"

"It's a planet."

I stared into Cat's slitted eyes. A sight like that could convince me of anything.

I glanced at the medical band around my wrist. "What's...E Ripley?"

"That's your name," Catherine said. "The E stands for Ellen."

"How come I don't remember that?"

"There was an accident in the mine. You hit a pocket of bad air. The toxins damaged the memory centers of your brain. I'm surprised you knew what Doogie Howser was."

"The important stuff is always the first to go," I muttered. "Why am I naked?"

"There was a _collapse_," Cat said. "Common medical procedure is to remove the victim's clothing without changing the position of the body. To ensure that no bones are broken. In this particular case, scissors have been used."

"Were there any?" I said. "Broken bones, I mean?"

Cat nodded. "We discovered several hairline fractures and contusions. We _did_ have to reset your elbow, however. You were unconscious at the time, and anesthetics were administered at regular intervals to insulate you from the pain."

I flexed my arm experimentally. "I can't even tell that there was work done."

The android smirked. "Excellent work, don't you think?"

I frowned at my arms, wondering if this story were actually true. Could they program a robot to lie?

"Yeah," I said, touching the back of my head.

I felt no scars or damage. "Are you sure I got caught in a collapse? I feel fine."

"You...have been out for quite some time. In fact, I would recommend you take it easy when you get to your feet."

I climbed down from the table, but experienced no dizziness or wooziness whatsoever.

"Where are my clothes?"

"As stated previously, _scissors_ have been employed. However, I _have_ retrieved a suitable replacement ensemble from your quarters." She handed me a gray jumpsuit and some underwear.

When I had dressed, Cat said, "You must be hungry. You've been living on intravenous feeding for several days. Perhaps I should escort you to the cafeteria."

I glanced around the room in puzzlement. "You said I had an IV?"

"Processing..." Cat's tail curled up in a question mark. "I put them up in the supply closet."

"Oh."

The cat face put on an expression of concern. "You _do_ remember how to get to the cafeteria, don't you, Ms. Ripley?"

I paled. This memory loss was making me more and more uneasy. "Maybe you should show me."

We passed a row of locked storage rooms, a lounge and a science lab.

"What am I doing here?" I asked. "Am I a miner?"

"Yes. Your position involves drilling through a hard substance known as Haddanium and retrieving valuable mineral deposits. Also, you assist the lab in researching how Haddanium crystals convert other minerals such as limestone into more of its type."

The mess hall was like a cinder block with benches and tables in it. A flat panel TV near the entrance displayed weather maps and information about the mining operation.

One at the opposite end of the room showed an episode of the _Big Bang Theory_ with the sound off. I liked it best that way. Old nerd jokes...

"Beverly Crusher," I muttered.

"What?" said Cat.

"Nothing."

Along the back wall, someone had painted the image of a snake head emerging from a flower. I asked Cat about it, but she only said, "It is merely an object of artistic expression."

At the moment, I saw five people at the tables, all clad in gray jumpsuits. My mouth watered when I smelled what they were having, pork chops and mashed potatoes.

When he saw Catherine, a bald effeminate looking black man mocked, "`_Meow sir_...'" His falsetto made me think he played for..._the other team_. "`This is just a routine testicular exam..._meow cough_.'"

A little brown woman next to him snickered.

When I approached the serving window, I noticed a fish tank.

An actual fish tank, filled with clownfish and goldfish and other pretty things, all alive and wiggling.

"You have _fish_," I exclaimed. "You actually shipped an _aquarium_ across space!"

Cat shrugged. "We have successfully transported pets, chimpanzees and human beings. It is not nearly as much a challenge to transport simpler animals such as these."

"Yes, but it seems cost prohibitive, especially for a mining colony."

"It is not as expensive as you think. Please..." Cat handed me a tray. "Help yourself."

The person behind the window was overweight, with shiny oil black hair that pressed to the sides of her tan head. We ate well on this rock, I gathered.

I took my pork chops and wandered the tables, trying to decide where to sit down.

I grimaced in disgust as the small woman described to her dining companion about how cleverly she used to break wind while working a strip club, like at the bottom of the pole. TMI.

The bald guy yanked Catherine's tail, earning an angry hiss. "That is my _power supply_, one which costs one thousand eight hundred ninety seven dollars and thirty five cents." she scolded. "Unless you wish to have this deducted from your meager salary, I would appreciate it if you did not touch it."

The man was clearly immature. I would have gone elsewhere, had he not waved me over, saying, "Hey, Ripley, don't be a stranger! C'mon and sit with us."

And so I humored him.

Both he and the girl looked young, early or pre-twenties, like they had hopped on a spaceship the moment they got out of high school. I suppose mining didn't require that much education, depending on your position...

"Hi," I said. "Who are you?"

He stared at me like he were waiting for the punch line. "Ripley, I'm _shocked_. You seriously don't remember _moi_?"

When he saw my blank look, he gave me an awkward laugh. "Damn, that cave-in really did a _number_ on your _noggin_!"

He sighed. "The name's _Maurice_."

Maurice gestured to the woman. "And this is Lexanna, or, as they like to call her in the industry, _Little Bunny Poot Poot._" He burst out laughing.

I rolled my eyes. "_Charmed._"

"If you'll excuse me," Cat said. "I need to recharge my battery."

"Why not have a pork chop, Cat?" Maurice said.

"Processing those compounds into chemical energy is wasteful and time consuming. It is much more efficient for me to recharge directly from an outlet." She walked away.

"Efficiency my ass," the man said as he watched her go. "She could eat with us if she wanted."

"I don't know," I said. "She probably has a lot of work to do."

"Not as much as you might think. If you ask me, the robot's just got her panties in a bunch."

"You _were_ kind of rude to it," I said.

"What _I_ think is that someone should program the bitch to chill." He cut a chunk off a pork chop, stuffing it into his mouth. "Shoot, I hear she's got a _vagina_. Maybe pussy's _pussy_ needs some _servicing_, if you catch my drift..."

"You volunteering, Maurice?"

I stared at the girl next to me. She didn't look like much of a stripper. She had glasses, and her body was so slim that she could probably hide behind the pole and not be seen. Still, I suppose she had an attractive enough face for it...

I noticed her long hair was an unnaturally light color, like she bleached or dyed it.

Maurice laughed. "Oh _hell no!_ Besides, I'm allergic to felines."

"She _did_ say her fur was made of hypoallergenic fibers..."

_"Nooo thank you."_

"You sure? _Someone_ has to unbunch those panties..."

When he grinned, I noticed a gap in the middle of his lower front teeth. I stared at it, wondering where it came from.

"Honey, she needs a _shave_, and that _face_ is a severe turn off."

I stared at his earrings, a crystal button sparkling from both lobes. With that, and his slight womanly build, he didn't strike me as the miner type. "How long have you been working here?"

The expression on his face again seemed to be saying he awaited a punch line. _`Get out of here, girlfriend...'_ his face was saying. "Almost as long as you."

When he saw that answer wasn't enough, he added, "Five years."

"Do you always have pork chops for meals?" I asked.

"Naw," he said. "We get shipments of chicken and tacos and watermelon, and even _ice cream_ from time to time. They must freeze dry it or some shit, but you can't taste the difference. Of course, we _have_ been living on Hell's Lice for quite some time...it probably killed our taste buds."

"Hell's Lice?"

"Don't ask, baby. That shit is _nasty_. You're better off not knowing, or _remembering_ what it is."

I pointed to the snake picture on the wall. "Do you know anything about that painting?"

Maurice shrugged. "Not much. It was here before I started working here. I think it cheers up an otherwise drab and boring cafeteria, but that's just me."

"So you wouldn't know who painted it."

He shook his head. "The hell if I know. The dude probably got fed up with all this bullshit and took off ten years ago."

A strange pasty faced red haired man with oddly pointed ears and a terrible case of acne plopped down on the bench next to me, tearing into a pork chop like it were a piece of jerky, no plate or eating utensils.

"Hey, Rippers!" he chuckled with his mouth full. "How's your head?"

I touched my head in unconscious response. "...Fine," I said. "Who are you?"

He chomped his pork chop, laughing through his nose. "That good, huh?"

"Poor baby's got amnesia," Maurice said. "Of course, in your case, I'd want to forget, too."

"Fuck you," the stranger laughed.

He offered his hand. "Wade George."

It didn't seem appropriate to introduce myself, or say "Pleased to meet you," so I just said, "Hi," and shook his hand.

Suddenly Maurice stood up, staring at something behind me in horror. "Oh my God! What the fuck is that?"

I craned my neck around and suppressed a scream.

I resembled a baby, which crawled across the floor on six fleshy spider-like legs.

As I stared, the creature turned its head upwards and sniffed in our direction.

It had no eyes, and fangs for teeth.

The baby hissed, snapping a long whip-like tail as it scuttled towards our table.

Wade grabbed my steak knife, climbing off the bench.


	32. Chapter 32: The Other Ripley

I stared wide eyed and frozen in fear as Wayde charged forward with the steak knife.

The moment he raised the knife to strike, the baby's tail snapped around his neck like a noose, and its eight limbs, six bug-like, four human wrapped around his face, appearing to suffocate him.

Wayde dropped to his knees as he struggled to pull it away, stabbing the baby thing with his knife.

Green blood, steaming like something boiling, sprayed from the wounds, burning his hands until he dropped the weapon. His body mutely screamed in its own way.

Then, all of a sudden, it falls off, rolls on its back, and dies like a spider, leaving Wayde gasping for air on the floor.

The coast appeared to be clear, so I hurried to his side. "Are you all right?"

"That thing just shoved a glob of slime down my trachea, so no," he gasped. "But thank you very much for asking." A feeble smile crossed his lips.

"We need a doctor!" I shouted.

Cat, of course, came running. The android pressed her head against the victim's chest for a moment, then she and Maurice dragged him to the med lab.

Catherine examined the man with a machine that reminded me of the optical scanners they have on old computers. A glowing bar traveled down the length of his body, creating a three dimensional hologram of his skeleton and internal organs.

I saw a round blob lodged in his chest cavity. It reminded me of the soft eggs they show in documentaries about insects.

"Ripley had an egg," he groaned.

"What?" I said.

"The _other Ripley_. She had an egg. Maybe _that thing_ was what was in it."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "What other Ripley?"

"He's delusional," Cat said. "This obstruction is limiting the passage of air to his brain."

I leaned closer, grabbing the man's arm. "What other Ripley?"

He suddenly looked horrified. "Nothing! I'm not supposed to!" And he starts coughing.

"What is this?" I said. "What's he not supposed to say?"

Cat responded by injecting him with a sedative, knocking him out. "The cafeteria is perfectly safe now. Please return there and finish your meal."

The holographic egg blob wiggled in the digital representation of Wayde's rib cage.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

That's when I see her take out a taser and press it into my neck.

I saw stars and blacked out.

I had another dream about naked people. This time, we somehow climbed down from the pods, avoiding the big octopus thing, to stand in the relative safety of a large cavern, through which we wandered for hours.

At last the tunnel lit up, and we arrived at a towering orange-brown wall, made of some type of thick gelatin that _smelled delicious_.

A dark haired woman impulsively pushed past me and started climbing this wall.

The substance was sticky, like a glue trap, but the woman didn't care. She stuck part of her face into the stuff and said, "Mmm! This stuff! The taste is orgasmic!" And she devoured more and more.

By the time she realized she was in danger, it was too late. I saw her thrashing helplessly against the sticky substance, her face enclosed in a shroud of slime as thick as a sheet of plastic. I could see the glop shrinking inwards around her mouth as she desperately struggled to inhale. No air came in.

As I witnessed the woman suffocate, I sat up, hyperventilating, on a couch.

I appeared to be in some kind of common room, like a lounge, with a TV, leather furniture, a bar, and a pool table.

Two men sat in padded folding chairs next to me, expressions of concern on their faces. Maurice, and a tall heavy set frog faced man that reminded me of Ceelo Green.

"You feeling all right, Ripley?" Maurice asked.

"We found you passed out on the floor," said the other man. "Cat said you had a _panic attack_."

"Panic attack my ass!" I cried. "That damn android shocked me with a _taser_!"

The big man started laughing. "Cat? _Tasering someone?_"

He stopped laughing when he saw the serious expression on my face. "Cat says you're still recovering from that collapse. I _was_ going to invite you back to the drill site, but I think you really should _rest._"

Maurice nodded. "Dan's right. You're not thinking clearly. I know from experience that when you get a concussion, your memories tend to be all jumbled up."

"I know what I saw," I said. "That android was trying to hide something from me, and I got tasered for asking questions."

"_Yeah_," Maurice said. "You see, I was playing_ football_ in _highschool_, and _my brain got a knock_. After the hospital, I thought I was fine, but I don't think my memory's been quite right after that.

"For example, after I graduated, I sincerely believed my dad came to see me walk across that stage. I swore up and down that he came along, but no. The bum was living in _Florida_, with his new wife. Mom and grandma came, but not him. _But my brain told me he was there._"

The idea gave me pause. People with brain injuries _did_ forget people and get confused. Of course, as stated before, I seemed to be in perfect physical condition for someone who just got a bunch of boulders dropped on her head, so his theory only led to more questions.

"How is Wayde doing?" I asked. "Did Cat remove that _thing_ from his chest?"

Maurice shook his head. "She's working on it."

I straightened, leaning forward. "Wayde said something about that creature being from an _egg_, from _the other Ripley_, like there's someone else with my name around here somewhere."

Dan chuckled. "Cat told me about that man's _delusions_. From what I hear, the _obstruction_ in his lungs is _limiting the passage of air to his brain._"

It was like he had been coached to say that.

"_I think that's been going around,_" I said, rolling my eyes.

Dan frowned at me. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I stammered. "But why would he be calling for me, to talk about an egg?"

That earned me a shrug. "You're both on the same team, _presumably friends_. _Maybe he just didn't want to be alone._"

"That sounds like bullshit," I said.

"It's only a theory. He might just be having a delusion, but maybe he _really likes you_."

"What about the egg?"

"What?"

"He mentioned..._me_...having an egg."

Dan furrowed his brow. "You know, when my grandma was dying in the hospital, she tried to hand me an imaginary cup. `This cup is empty', she told me. Like I said, he's delusional."

Yeah, I thought. Or maybe there's another woman with my name hiding somewhere in this mining facility, and she's been sending out alien parasite babies.

I didn't say it, of course.

There was a lot I didn't say.

I stood up. "I guess you're right. Maybe I should go check on him. Maybe he'd like that."

"I'm sorry," Dan said. "That's not such a good idea right now."

"Cat said you should _rest_," Maurice agreed. "She said the incident with that xenomorph was too much stress, and she didn't want you to have another panic attack."

Dan went to the bar, pouring a glass of bourbon, which he offered to me.

"Here. This'll help you relax."

Deciding I needed a drink anyway, I took it.

The moment I emptied the glass, I passed out.

I've had alcohol before. I would never black out after one drink.

...unless there was something in it.


	33. Chapter 33: Work

I woke up on a bed in a little concrete room. It had a single dresser, a closet, and that's about it. No windows. A door, wide open, showed me a view of a hallway, presumably the same one I'd seen while resting in crew quarters.

When I saw a big brown figure sitting in a chair next to me, I nearly fell out of bed.

I clutched my chest, frowning at him.

Dan. His name was Dan.

"_Feeling any better_?" he asked presumptuously.

"Y-yeah," I stammered.

I was in my underwear. I knew this the moment I had clutched my chest. "What did you do to me?"

"Do?" he shrugged. "Nothin'!"

I didn't believe it for a second.

He must have noticed my facial expression, for he then protested, "_Look_. All I gave you is a _drink._ _That is all_ I gave you. You were recovering from a concussion, probably some drugs in you already, and you were going through a lot of stress. It's no surprise that you passed out."

I frowned. "I was wearing _clothes._"

Dan looked embarrassed now. "_I didn't do anything to you, if that's what you're insinuating._ I just wanted to make your sleep more comfortable. Plus your clothes were raggedy, you snagged the ankle of your jumpsuit on something, so I sent it back to be mended. You got more of them in your closet."

An awkward silence passed between us, me staring at him in fear and horrified embarrassment, he looking back with an indignant expression like he'd done nothing wrong.

"Do you like romanticomedies?" he asked, I guess to break the ice. "I found a really good one..."

"Get out," I snapped.

Dan continued speaking as if I hadn't said anything. "_You know what it reminded me of..._Fifty First Dates. Remember that one?"

"Get out of here!" I yelled.

He stood up. "I see you're feeling better, so I'll step out so you can get dressed."

"Fuck off," I said.

"_You're welcome_," he replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Once alone, with the door shut, I put on a jumpsuit I found in the closet. To my surprise, it fit perfectly, leading me to believe that maybe this was my room.

When I came out, I found Dan and Maurice standing next to each other, staring at a cel phone.

"Damn!" Dan was saying. "How the hell did she fit her head into that?"

"I do not know," Maurice replied.

When they noticed me standing in the doorway, they quickly put the phone away.

"_We'll be back after these messages_," said Maurice.

"What were you looking at?" I asked.

Dan shrugged. "Employee social net. Nothing too exciting."

"Sounds a little _sketchy_ to me." I said.

Dan put his hands on his hips. "Hold on. Weren't you the one that just told me to fuck off?"

I shook my head. "All right. Never mind. How's Wayde?"

"He's fine, Ellen," Dan said. "Unfortunately, you won't be able to see him at the moment. He got reassigned to Delta Base, off to the west of here."

I sighed. "But he's up and moving around?"

"Yup."

It sounded like a lie, but I didn't call him on it.

"What time is it?"

"You just missed breakfast," Maurice said. "We saved you a plate. It's in the fridge."

I looked and found a plate of crepes, with _fresh fruit topping_. A plate of bacon and eggs sat next to it.

"They freeze dried strawberries?" I asked.

"Oh no honey," Maurice said. "_That's the real deal!_"

"_Mine were a little soft_," Dan agreed. "I think I'll get the peaches next time."

"How?" I asked. "How did you get fresh fruit?"

Dan cleared his throat. "Well, it _is_ refrigerated..."

It didn't make sense, but I decided not to ask any more questions.

The crepes were delicious.

"You think you're ready to go back to work?" Dan asked me as I was crunching my last piece of bacon. "I mean, it's cool if you aren't. You're still a little out of it, but sooner or later you'll have to resume your duties. You know they punish us by _not_ sending us back to earth, don't you?"

"That sounds counterproductive," I said. "If people aren't motivated, if they think they can't leave..."

"I've seen some high performers being sent back. As long as that happens, we've got plenty of motive."

I agreed to work, so the two led me through the base, into a big cavern.

My team, apparently, was a dark African guy with a mustache by the name of Kingston Kobe, a Hawaiian woman with a terrible complexion named Lana, Lexanna, and a rather stern, unfriendly blonde that went by the name "Dee."

It took me awhile to figure out their laser drills. Maurice, who had been watching me trying to understand the process, remarked that the concussion must have been more severe than people thought.

We try to space ourselves apart while drilling, so we can uncover more minerals. For this reason I tried drilling at the wall opposite the one the others were working on.

Kingston stopped me, smiling as he spoke to me in his thick accent. "We do not drill over there. You will cause another collapse."

I stared at the man. His head was bald and rounded. His jaw and chin lacked angularity. For some reason, he had shaven his mustache in the style of one of those biker guys, a sort of Fu Manchu that goes down the sides of the chin. "Uh, sorry. I...didn't know."

"He's right," Dee said behind me. "Last year we uncovered a nest of Hell's Lice in there. They were such a nuisance that we weren't able to work for several days."

I stared at her. Ice blue eyes, hair tied back into a stub of a ponytail. Her narrow facial features had a reddish tint to them, her cheekbones oddly pronounced.

"So they nest in there," I said.

She said yes with her eyes.

And so I drilled somewhere else, a yard down from Dee.

The woman was no conversationalist. She either talked about the job, or she drilled, and my attempts at conversation were either drowned out by her machine, or shot down by a bland one-liner. The time crawled.

Haddanium is an incredibly strong mineral. For this reason, I noticed at once when I ran into a block of something that wasn't.

The material cut like butter. The drill nearly sucked me into a wall opening. By the time I had the device stopped, I had shredded the meat around both knuckles.

"What did you find?" Dee asked.

I shined a flashlight into the hole I'd just created, then stared in disbelief.

"It's limestone." I pointed at a curiously familiar fossil. "And that's a Trilobite."

"That's...not possible," Dee said. "Those couldn't exist out here."

"Actually," Kingston said. "It's possible prehistoric fish developed over similar evolutionary lines."

"_True_..." Dee said slowly.

"Bullshit," I said under my breath. "How come we're only now discovering limestone?"

"I really don't know," Dee said. "That's an answer that's beyond my pay grade."

"I thought this was a dry planet. No fossilized oceans."

"Perhaps we were wrong." Kingston looked at his watch. "Let's go to lunch. I will ask Nathan what he wants us to do with limestone."

"Good idea," said Dee. "You guys go ahead. I got to get something real quick. I'll meet up with you in the cafeteria."

I nodded. I and the rest of the team marched back up the tunnel we came from.

Hit by a sudden wave of nausea, I paused to rest on a stalagmite.

Everyone left me except for the African.

"Are you okay?" Kingston asked with concern.

I nodded. "Fine." I waved at the tunnel. "I just need to catch my breath. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

He looked worried, but he nodded. "All right, Ellen. Hope you feel better." And he walked on.

After my stomach got back to normal, I got up, and would have continued after the others, had I not noticed a knocking sounds and a strange motion out of the corner of my eye.

It came from deeper within the tunnel. I walked down further that way, and was surprised to see Dee knocking on a rock wall like it was some kind of doorway.

I hid behind a pillar, watching in bewilderment as she waved to the wall as if she expected someone to see her there.

I heard a low hum, then the woman stepped inside the wall and disappeared.

"Do you feel better now?" I heard Kingston's voice saying over my shoulder.

I swallowed. "No...I actually feel a lot worse."


	34. Chapter 34: Secret Doors

I stared at the section of wall Dee had disappeared into, uncertain about what to tell Kingston, if anything.

It sounded crazy. Why would anyone be sneaking off into a wall? And who would build such a thing? If Kingston already knew about it, he might act like I'm crazy, even if he knows I'm telling the truth.

...Wouldn't he? Everyone else seemed to.

Could I trust him?

Was I really cracking up?

I got up from where I'd been sitting, stepping toward the rock wall.

"Where are you going?" Kingston said.

"I think I left something on the floor," I answered. "It must have fell out while I was drilling."

He marched ahead of me. "Which did you leave? Maybe I can help find it."

"That's okay," I said. "I'll look for it myself. Anyway, I have a pretty good idea where it is."

"Then maybe you can tell _me_ where to look. I get it for you."

I just shook my head.

He put a hand on my arm, giving me a slight smile. "C'mon. We can look for it later. You know we are not allowed to work these mines alone."

"I wasn't going to work," I protested.

"No difference," he said. "We operate on _buddy system_. In case of cave-in."

Sighing in resignation, I followed him to the cafeteria.

Now we had Chinese food. Fried rice and wontons and egg drop soup.

We never had soup. It wasted water. As did the fish tank. At this point, I stopped trying to understand things like this.

At the tables I saw a few faces that I hadn't seen before.

A beak nosed man named Clifton, who had something wrong with his eye, and looked rather ill at ease.

Sam Middleton, a short hairy man with slick black hair.

Brandon Jones, a big red faced guy with buzz cut hair.

Mr. Freschaur, bald, thick limbed, brunette.

And, strangest of all, a missionary aide named Topher. Apparently he was a pencil neck when he first arrived, but after drilling and working the place for awhile, he's developed a lean sort of musculature. His square glasses are taped together, and he seems to be developing a beard.

Along the wall, I could see Cat speaking with a sloth-like man with flabby arms and a fat stomach.

Honestly, you couldn't call it talking. They did a lot of silent staring, nodding that didn't appear to be connected to a conversation, their mouths opening at odd times, in ways that didn't look like speech.

After the meal and a few games of pool, we returned to the site, resuming our drilling operation.

I drilled next to Dee, in hopes of getting some answers.

For the first hour, I didn't get anything. We just did our job.

We were working around the limestone, chipping away at the Haddanium, to see where the limestone began and ended. Limestone ranks lower than pyrite in terms of value, so we'd just as soon isolate a large block and dump it somewhere, maybe the center of the planet, if we could find a hole deep enough.

We somehow hit a snag, our drills getting stuck in the unyielding material. Dee's drill shorted out, and she swore and sat down on a rock, drinking from her water bottle.

"What were you doing inside the wall?" I asked.

Dee nearly choked on her water. "I was drilling. What do you _think_ I was doing?"

"No, I mean, when we were going to lunch."

"Excuse me?"

"I stayed behind," I said. "I saw you knock on the rocks and go inside the wall."

She looked angry, her cheeks flushing red. "I'm afraid you've been seeing things. _Maybe you'd like to lie down?_"

"No," I said coldly. "I'd much prefer you tell me the truth."

She sighed. "Ellen, the only thing I did when you were on your way to lunch was to collect my personal belongings from our last site. Some..._pictures._"

"Did you leave some inside the wall?" I challenged.

She maintained the charade, indignant. "Ms. Ripley, if you insist on keeping on with these fanciful delusions, I'm going to send you back to Cat's office."

I gave up.

We worked until dinner. The cafeteria served us pizza, the staff joking about replacing the Canadian bacon with slices of Hell's Lice. The rest of the evening was free, the second shift guys taking over. We played cards and watched old movies. I played Ms. Pacman a little.

Soon everyone was turning in, to prepare for another day of drilling.

It tried to sleep. I really did. But it was no use. I'd spent most of the day unconscious, and now I couldn't sleep. I just stared at the ceiling, wondering about things.

I got up, tiptoeing out of my room.

Dan was up, watching _Something about Mary_, laughing his ass off.

He didn't see me. I dove behind a couch, laying low, glancing around to check if anyone else was up and about.

Nobody else. The bedroom doors were all shut. I crawled behind a barco lounger and another sofa, facing the doorway that led into the outer hall.

I straightened a little, preparing to dart over there, but the moment I shifted, I saw Cat marching past.

A second later, Dan is shutting off the movie, and I have to make myself small and press against the sofa to avoid detection.

When I heard his door close, I checked the area and hurried to the exit, peering outside.

Cat was pulling a shrouded body on a stretcher to a gray door. I watched as she pushed the buttons on a keypad.

With each button press, the keypad made beeping sounds in various tones. I thought these tones sounded kind of like the James Bond theme.

After the sixth note, the door hissed open, and Cat pushed the stretcher inside.

I waited for the the door to close again, then crept up the hallway.

I hurried into the infirmary, searching for any sign of Wayde or any clues about what they did to him.

I didn't expect much. That body on the stretcher was either him or they had taken him somewhere. I couldn't believe that story about him being shipped off to another site. He's a fairly friendly guy. He would have said something if he were going to leave. At the very least, _everyone would have seen him go_.

I searched the floor and tables, but couldn't find much of anything. Cat kept the place pretty tidy, and I'd need a key to get into the cabinets.

I was about to give up the search when I noticed a red glint behind an examination table.

It was a red plastic card key. I quickly stuffed it into my pocket, hurrying back down the hallway.

No sign of Cat yet. I guessed she was still doing...whatever.

Checking to the left and right, I approached the keypad, trying to guess the security code by sound. I always did have a good ear for music.

After the fourth attempt, the door came open, and I was staring int a cramped metal corridor that looked like part of a submarine, with color coded pipes running along the walls.

Hearing a noise, I ducked behind a breaker box in a little alcove. I couldn't see what was going on, but I heard the door hiss open and shut, so I figured I was in the clear.

A few yards down, I came to another security door, this one with a card scanner.

I tried the card, but it didn't work. I continued on down the corridor, trying it on whatever door I could find.

Woosh.

The noise was surprisingly loud. As a reflex, I looked back and forth to make sure I hadn't been discovered.

When I saw what this room contained, I froze in horrified disbelief.

Rows of glass tubes, each one containing a nude woman, floating in transparent blue liquid.

I crept into the room, and found a second row of them along the door side.

The moment I got a good look at one of their faces, I flinched and jumped back.

The woman was me. The face, the body, _everything_ matched what I saw in the mirror.

I shuddered, retreating further and further, until I found myself bumping into something sticky.

Wiping my hands on my jumpsuit, I whirled around.

I had to cover my mouth to suppress a scream.

It was one of those plant pod things, just like the ones in my nightmare.

The thing had been set up with machinery, wires and tubes of some sort of nutrients. In the cracks in the petals, I could see a glint of human flesh. Computers and some sort of regulating device hummed along the wall.

One of the machines contained a human brain in that blue solution, riddled with probes and wires.

The room had no exits whatsoever. I had to get out of there, and fast.

When I raised the security card to the scanner, I heard a loud hiss. I rushed between the tanks to hide.

Through the corner of the glass tanks, I could see the feline android padding in.

There was nothing I could do but squat down and hold my breath.

I exhaled through my nose, watching Cat pacing around the chamber.

"Ms. Ripley," she said. "I suggest you come out at once. My systems are equipped with infrared scanning equipment and sonar detection. I can hear you breathing."

I was hoping I could exploit whatever limitations existed in said system, so I didn't move.

"`And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden of the cool of the day," Cat said as she checked between the wrong tanks. "`...And the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden...'"

I shuddered. I knew the machine had artificial intelligence. It was the strange quotation that made me nervous. Like something had..._errored out _in its programming.

She was closer now, peering between rows on my side. "`But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, `Where are you?'"

I clenched my fists. There was literally nothing I could do. It was a damn robot.

All of a sudden, I see her standing in front of me.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Ms. Ripley," she said, pointing a finger at me. As she spoke, a long needle shot out of her fuzzy digit. "A pregnant woman needs to be careful."

"Wait, I'm not pregnant!" I cried, but I couldn't help but wonder if I were wrong. Cat _was_ a medical droid, after all.

"That's right," Cat said. "You're not. _Yet._"

And then she sticks the needle in my neck.


	35. Chapter 35: Kingston

I blacked out.

For how long, it's impossible to say.

All I know is, one minute I was cowering in a corner as an android tried to stick me with a needle, the next I was staggering blindly down the corridor next to the cafeteria.

"Are you all right?" Topher Ferguson asked me.

I stared through those square glasses, into his beady rat-like eyes. Despite having gained some muscle tone from drilling, I somehow doubted he could carry a grown woman.

I braced myself against the wall. "I'm fine. I'm just...tired."

And then I threw up.

He insisted that I go see Cat in the infirmary, but I kept saying I was fine. Another visit with Cat was the last thing I needed.

He tried to carry me there, but I shoved him away, fleeing down the corridor.

I circled back, took a shower.

When I came out, grabbing a towel to dry myself off, the android was standing statue-like beside the sink, unblinking, mouth frozen in her default cat litter commercial smile. I screamed.

I had no weapons to use on her. I had left a pair of scissors next to my hair drier, but they had mysteriously vanished.

I wound the towel tightly around my body, frowning at the silent intruder.

My coworkers called this nonresponsive state "Cat-atonia."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Cat spoke first. "You are experiencing morning sickness, an early symptom of pregnancy. This medication should help with the nausea."

She placed a rattling green pill bottle on the counter.

"Go fuck yourself," I said.

The android paused and thought a moment. "Unable to comply. Alterations to sexual modules can only be performed by manufacturer with appropriate 561C procedural clearance."

She grinned like a Cheshire Cat, as if amused by her own joke. "Congratulations on your newly acquired _human_ offspring."

With that, she turned and left the bathroom.

I watched her from the doorway, waiting for her to leave my room, then, from my door, I kept an eye on her, until she at last disappeared down the hallway.

Good riddance.

Morning sick or not, there was no way in hell I'd take those pills. I dumped the whole bottle down the toilet, replacing the contents with candy.

I had breakfast, went to work.

A few hours later, I was throwing up again. I told Dee and the others I was fine, popping mints to show I had things under control.

I took frequent rests.

During one of these rests, Kingston approached me and said, "You know what would help? Perhaps we should go outside. You could sit down, and see the world. The atmosphere is not breathable, but the light and scenery might make you feel at ease."

"Yes, but wouldn't she get motion sick?" Dee asked. "She already has _nausea._"

"I'd love to go," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"The other site has drillers and equipment."

And so we suited up and marched out to the rover.

"Are you excited about your preg-_nancy_?" Kingston asked as we rolled along.

What do you say to something like this?

My oxygen supply was full, but I noticed a red light flashing on the back of his, like he didn't have any air. Instead of answering his question, I asked him about that.

"This unit is defective," he said. "Actually, there is a full air supply. But the light comes on anyway."

I accepted his explanation, and we rode on in silence for awhile.

"You didn't answer my question, but I have answered yours," Kingston said with a half grin. It was hard to tell when he was being serious.

"Uh yeah," I said without enthusiasm. "I'm excited."

Then, expecting further questions, I said. "I don't know who the father is."

Kingston chuckled through his nose. "Whoever he is, he is a lucky man."

I shuddered.

I made it a point to distance myself from him from then on.

The landscape around us was dry and mountainous, pitted with craters. Not much to look at, really, but it was, at least, _outside_.

The entrance to Base C, now called Ghost Base, had been recently rebuilt. It looked newer than the rest of the place, and nicer than the surrounding walls. I heard some terrorists or space pirates had landed there and blown the place up.

Inside, the structure was pretty barren and gutted. Someone had taken most the useful supplies and many personal possessions away already. We kept our environment suits on simply due to the lack of oxygen being circulated through there.

After we grabbed a couple drills and some repair units and spare parts, I tried to stop by crew quarters and look around, but Kingston told me it wasn't safe, due to toxic chemicals or something. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but I decided it wasn't worth the risk, so I just followed him outside.

We delayed at the rover for a few moments, Kingston packing the equipment in, checking the oxygen levels, the tires, things like that.

As I waited for him to get done (he wouldn't let me exert myself - I'm pregnant, after all), I suddenly noticed a small figure running across the rocky landscape ahead.

I had some special high powered binoculars in the rover, so I pressed them to my faceplate to get a better look.

I nearly dropped them in surprise.

Out there on the dead alien landscape was a boy in a striped t-shirt and jeans, flying a remote control airplane.

He breathed normally without equipment, the wind tousling his hair as he moved.

"Kingston!" I called, waving him over. "Come look at this! Hurry!"

Kingston took his time, slowly moseying over like there wasn't anything there to see but a boulder and some holes in the ground.

All of a sudden, I see a space suited figure leap out from behind a rock, dragging the boy away, kicking and screaming as he struggled to escape.

"Look at what, Ellen?" he asked, his faceplate turning every direction but the way I wanted it to.

I quickly handed him the binoculars, pointing that way.

He took one look, then handed them back with a smile. Even inside a helmet, he looked smug.

"_Did you see that?_" I asked.

Still smiling, he gave me a nod. "Yes. _ It is a massive dust storm_. We should get back to base before it hits."


	36. Chapter 36: Centipede

Our ride back to base was a silent one. I stared out the window, my emotions wavering between self doubt and a paranoid mistrust of everyone around me.

Was Kingston only pretending not to see that boy running around on those rocks? Or was I merely delusional, seeing things that weren't there?

If the boy was real, what was he doing there? How was it that he could run around without an environment suit? Or was he some sort of alien specially adapted to breathe from a thin or toxic environment?

As I asked myself these things, I began to wonder if I had maybe watched too many science fiction programs.

"You seem very quiet," Kingston said. "Were you frightened by the dust storm?"

I had to say something, so I just gave him what I thought he wanted to hear.

"No. It's just...this pregnancy has caught me off guard, that's all."

Kingston smirked. "Babies are always unexpected. Which is strange because pregnant woman is called `_expecting_.'" He chuckled at this little joke.

For the rest of the ride, we said nothing to each other.

When I returned to the drill site, I saw _Wayde_ working on one of the walls.

Scarcely believing my eyes, I ran up to him, touching his shoulder. "Wayde! Wayde!"

He stopped drilling and just looked at me.

"Wayde! I was so worried! Are you all right? What happened?"

He only stared at me.

"Wayde, say something to me. Please."

He did not.

"He suffered some brain damage during the collapse," Dee said. "I'm afraid he's lost his speech centers."

"Can he write?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, he can't even do that."

Wayde gave me a thumbs up, resuming his drilling.

The rest of the day was boring routine, no pun intended. Dinner consisted of pizza, with banana splits for dessert.

Later that night, I sneaked out of crew quarters, slipping down to the room with all the environment suits.

The room was a gray concrete box, lined with lockers and machines that refilled and ran diagnostics on our space suits.

The diagnostics I planned to do were much more basic.

To be honest, Kingston didn't have that much of a reason to make up a story about a defective suit, but something sounded sketchy about the idea.

For one thing, he never checked the time, or appeared to have any concern about his oxygen levels.

I dug his suit out of his locker, giving it a good test.

The regulator could be removed from the helmet for inspection. I switched everything on, pressing the device to my face.

Nothing.

No air flow.

It made no sense. I saw the man_ inhaling_.

I pulled some tubes out, expecting to receive a cold jet of oxygen and other gases, but they were dead empty. I frowned, plugging them back in.

And then I found the vent.

When I was flicking the various switches on his pack, the helmet, lights, radio, electrical, I came across one that didn't seem to do anything, but made a strange clicking sound.

I turned the suit around, flicking the lever repeatedly.

Then I saw it. An intake vent on the bottom of his tank. The lever flipped the slats open and closed.

Intake.

On a space suit.

What was he doing, borrowing air from the base and breathing it?

How the hell would that even work?

"You are at the wrong locker," said a voice behind me.

I spun around and found the spacesuit owner smiling back at me.

"Planning a little space walk?"

I had been caught red handed. I swallowed hard.

"Why is there a vent on the back of your pack?"

He acted like he didn't understand, so I showed him.

"In previous days, they would conserve O2 by shutting off the supply and taking intake from space station or shuttle."

"I checked yours," I said. "There isn't any air in there at all."

"It's leaking," he said. "So I returned air to the compression unit." He indicated the big supply canister.

"I'm going to bed," I said.

"Perhaps you better. You are acting funny."

_I'm_ acting funny? I thought. _You're_ the one who's walking around with a bad suit with an intake vent.

I didn't challenge him on this, I just returned to my quarters.

The next few days were spent in mindless routine. I kept to myself, I drilled, I ate, I watched movies.

I spoke to no one, for there wasn't anyone I felt I could trust. If someone asked me a question, I'd answer it, but that was the extent of my conversation.

Every day, my belly grew larger. It was okay for awhile, but eventually, I couldn't hardly walk, and I was forced to spend the days going between the couch, my bed, and the bathroom.

The baby kicked powerfully. No matter how much I rubbed my stomach, cooed, or sang to it, the fetus kept bumping around in there, enough to make me scream out in pain.

And then I passed out for an entire day.

When I woke up, I was on an examination table in the infirmary, and Cat was giving me a sonogram.

What I saw in the holographic image looked like a normal baby, but it flickered from time to time.

During the flickering, _I saw things_.

My baby's head would look like a skull.

Or wiggling snakes.

Or both.

One time it looked like a giant cockroach.

"Isn't she purr-fect?" Cat was saying as she moved the camera around the twitching insect. "The limbs and other organs all appear to be normal. She's going to be a very beautiful little girl."

She wasn't even looking at it. She stared through the hologram, at the wall, thoughtlessly reciting the comments someone had programmed into her system.

I thanked her, but only to fulfill the expected social interaction required to earn my release from the infirmary.

A couple days later, as I was microwaving a burrito, my water broke.

It wasn't water.

In fact, it wasn't even amniotic fluid.

A flood of black ooze exploded out between my legs, pooling around my shoes.

An instant later, I felt something like fish hooks stabbing through the walls of my uterus. I screamed as the red dripped down and mixed with the black, like an accident in the factory where they made Chick tracts and Frank Miller comics.

Topher, Wayde and Kingston carried me screaming down to the infirmary.

And then I was back up on the examination able, stripped down to one of those flimsy medical gowns with the drafty back end, my legs propped apart with stirrups as Cat injected me with drugs, including a spinal epidural.

My coworkers stared at me with worriment, maybe excitement.

The drugs made things foggy. Cat was saying some things about uterine damage, and a lateral transverse breach, as opposed to a sedimentary transform fault breach, and the position of the baby's head in the relation to the two.

And then a large centipede burst out of my womb.

I don't know how else to describe it. Its head was just about an inch or two larger than an actual baby's head, but it was chitinous. It had these sort of pincer things for a mouth, and a long segmented body.

The thing was so damn big that I could hardly understand how it could even fit inside my body, but there it was, tearing at my cervix as it reared up on its scissor-like legs, clawing at Cat's face.

Topher screamed as the thing climbed onto his face, boring a hole through his forehead.

Cat smiled at me with milky coolant dripping down her fuzzy face, one eyeball hanging out of its socket. "Isn't she just adorable?"


	37. Chapter 37: Quickening

The creature made itself a home in Topher's skull, like a snake in a rabbit's nest. Kingston picked up a metal stool and tried to smash it, but Cat stuck him with a needle, and he collapsed.

Wayde, well, he didn't try to do anything whatsoever.

I fled the room quickly, ignoring my current state of undress. Semi-nude is still alive.

I was bleeding all over the floor, but I didn't care. I had to hide somewhere, get a weapon.

I ran into a cloud of vapor cigarette smoke, which came at me like a dragon's fire.

The man was weaselly looking with beady little eyes. I met him once in the caves. Bryan, he said his name was.

I slipped on blood. He caught me.

"Whoa!" he cried, dropping the `vape in his haste to stop me from falling. "What's the big rush?"

I told him the facts, but he must have thought I was delirious.

"You shouldn't be running around like that. You could hurt your baby."

"That _thing_ is not a baby!" I cried.

He took it the wrong way. "Look. I, uh, if you're pro choice, I'm not going to say you're right or wrong, but we just don't have the equipment, or the _stuff_ for a safe abortion. You're going to have to _lie down_ and figure something else out."

"The baby's already out, moron," I growled. "That's actually the majority of the problem!"

"_A giant bug came out of your crotch," _he said, voice heavy with skepticism.

"Yes!"

He squinted at me. "Are you high?"

Despite my best protests, the man grabbed me and tried to carry me off to the infirmary.

"Please," I said. "Just take me to my room. I'll wash up and lay down. I promise."

He accepted this compromise, supporting my arm as I limped back to my room.

I saw a lot of blood when I showered. I stayed in there a long time, hoping it would stop, but it only slowed a little.

I got dressed, layering my underthings in hopes of halting the flow.

Nobody said anything about water conservation.

By this time, Bryan was gone. You can only stand outside an opaque bathroom door so long without getting bored. I put on my regular clothes, peeking outside to see if I had any guards.

Bryan was vaping on the couch, watching _Highlander_. I crept along the cloth back of his furniture, sneaking behind him.

I only got halfway to the other couch before I felt a hand yanking on my hair.

Bryan blew a smoke cloud into the air, away from my face, I guess on account of the baby. It's kind of like how some nurses will go up to a one armed man and ask which arm they want the shot in.

"I thought you were going to lie down," he deadpanned.

I groaned and rose to my feet. "I got hungry. I thought I'd fix myself a sandwich."

"Why the hell are you sneaking around for? Shit, I could have _made_ you a sandwich. You like turkey on swiss?"

I leaned on a counter and sighed.

"You really weren't trying to make a sandwich, were you?"

I sat down on stool, staring at the floor. "I just want out of this hell hole."

"Don't we all." He glanced below my waist and chuckled. "It looks like you're trying to make a diaper with old laundry. You sure you don't want to go see Cat?"

I shook my head violently. "I'm fine."

"Might want to check Supplies to see if they have any fresh pairs. You don't want to be out with blood all over your shit."

He handed me the sandwich.

I rolled my eyes. "_You going to tell me how to use a tampon next?_"

He smirked a little at that. "No, ma'am. Last time I tried that, it ended with me at the dentist, getting prosthetic teeth put in."

Bryan actually made good sandwiches. It was like someone took stuff out of a Thanksgiving dinner and put it in a hoagie. I ate it while watching guys trying to decapitate each other with swords.

"Seen it dozens of times," Bryan said as he ate something he made with cold cuts. "Always liked Christopher Lambert the best. Adrien Paul's all right, but he's not as good. I wasn't too keen on that TV movie either, where they ended the series. It was really campy."

"Quick! Don't let it get away!" I heard a voice shouting.

I turned and saw Dee, Dan and Maurice rushing into the room with shovels, chasing down that centipede thing. Cat was close behind, her eye covered with a white medical patch.

"Watch it!" Bryan shouted. "We've got a pregnant woman in here!"

"_Post pregnant_," I corrected.

"You've got some medical shit going on, all right!" he growled at me. Then, to the others, "Careful, you assholes!"

And then I see _Topher Ferguson_ rushing in after them, with a sort of glass cage in his hands.

The wound in his skull had been covered with a little bandage, as if he'd only bumped his head.

"Topher?" I said, feeling a cold chill running down my back.

He set the cage down and gave me a thumbs up.

"You're dead!" I cried. "I saw you _die!_"

He slowly shook his head no.

"Ms. Ripley is delirious," Cat said to Bryan. "Take her to bed so she can rest."

"What about the bug?" he asked.

"Don't worry. _We'll take care of that._ Get her out of here. Return Ms. Ripley to her room."

Bryan was surprisingly strong for a man of his wiry build. In a minute or so, he had me flat on the bed, tying my wrists to the posts.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he was saying as he did this. "I ain't gonna touch you. I don't do kinky on the first date."

He left me tied there, shutting and locking the door behind him.

The knots were loose, intentionally, I assume. I got out of them, but it did me no good.

My door was locked. _From the outside_.

I could see a second strike plate, molded to match the rest of the frame to fool the naked eye, and the horizontal piece stuck through it.

My bedroom door.

Lockable the other way.

Like they had built the room that way intentionally.

I tugged on the handle, beat upon the door, but no one answered me.

Worse, someone turned on the stereo, drowning out my cries with that old song by Foster The People.

"_All the little kids with the pumped up kicks, better run, better run, faster than my bullet..._"


	38. Chapter 38: Crawl

An entire hour past. With no windows or doors, it felt like I were trapped in a mausoleum.

I crawled to the back of my closet, staring absently into the room, wondering if I were cracking up, or if all these things I'd seen were real.

The bleeding appeared to have stopped, and it was just as well. I had run out of things to wear.

As I sat there, losing track of time as I wondered who, if anyone, would ever decide to come in and check on me, I suddenly noticed how drafty and chill it was in there. It turned out there was an air conduit behind me, one reasonably large enough for a grown woman to squeeze through, if I could get the panel off.

I dug through my dresser and closet, but could only find an Allen wrench. I used to have an automatic screwdriver, but it seemed someone had taken it. I think they only left the wrench because it was small, hard to see in the crack of the drawer, and I needed it to repair the hammock chair I kept in the corner of the closet.

The wrench actually worked in the panel. It was slow going, but the bolts loosened, and I was looking into a dark rectangle.

I had no flashlight, or lights period, other than the ones in the ceiling, but this was going to be the only way out, like it or not. The compartment was small, my shoulders. brushing against the sides. It was good I wasn't totally claustrophobic, or I would have freaked out and crawled back into the room already.

I felt ahead with my heads, wishing I could figure out a way to close the panel behind me, so they wouldn't know where I was, but I couldn't even turn around.

A few yards in, I was in pitch blackness, a tiny glimmer of light behind my back the only illumination.

This glimmer was soon disrupted by a dark shape, and the sounds of feverish scratching, an effortless, springy, inhuman sound, terrible in its quiet and purposeful advancing.

I crawled faster, but it was too late. I felt something like a knife stabbing me in the calf.

I kicked the creature again and again, shoving off further, deeper into the air conduit. If it led to a dead end, with no way out, I'd just have to deal with it, maybe learn to fight backwards as I reversed direction.

One thing I learned from watching my cousins playing video games, is the way out of any maze is to follow the wall. If you hit a `roundabout', so to speak, you'll at least find yourself at the starting point. The problems came when you decided to strike off on a random direction, and got stuck circling a `brick' in the center of the map.

Wait. Did I _have_ cousins? If so, was I really a clone? Was this a real memory, or one that was somehow planted?

I had no time to think about it further. I turned right, crawling fast.

A yard down, I rammed headfirst into a grate.

The thing didn't slow at all, ripping into my legs, again and again.

I suppose all children occasionally wish to harm the parent that bore them. This one just happened to be the most sincere.

Agonized and bleeding from multiple wounds, I reached back, grabbed the thing, and bashed it against the metal sides of the compartment, again and again.

The thing did not die, but merely scuttled back. I used the opportunity to fumble around blind in the dark with the Allen wrench, dropping it twice before I got a bolt working loose.

The thing came back, jabbing my hand as I reached for it, then stabbing my leg, sucking up my blood. It seemed the flow from my uterus hadn't satisfied it, so now it wanted more.

The panel had been screwed on by only the bolts. The others were a poor fit, one missing, another just hanging loose in the hole. A push from my finger, and the panel fell over.

The sound was soft. It had landed on a pile of clothes. Shoes. I was in somebody's closet.

As much as I feared the thing stabbing me, I feared the owner of the closet just as much, so I made no sound when I slid the door open.

A small brown female figure in a silky pink bra and panties had been reaching for the door at the same time, probably to grab some clothes after a shower. She took one look at me and screamed.

I quickly rushed to cover her mouth.

"Lexanna!" I hissed. "Shut up! It's me!"

She gave me a nervous nod, but her eyes had that flighty rabbit look that made me doubtful of her trustworthiness.

The centipede was still behind me. I had to get rid of it somehow.

Seeing a pair of sharp looking hair scissors on a dresser, I pointed. "You mind if I borrow these for a moment?"

She nodded, so I let go of her, grabbed the centipede, and slammed the blades through its exoskeleton again and again and again, until it moved no more, and black blood sprayed on her collection of shoes, her dresser, her clothes.

"Do you have any bandages?" I asked.

Lexanna had some gauze and Band-Aids in her bathroom. I treated my wounds the best I could, but I feared I would need stitches.

"What the hell is that thing you just killed?" she asked me.

I cinched up some gauze with butterfly clamps. "I don't know. Is that what you normally wear to the drill site?"

Lexanna worked third shift, when I was usually sleeping.

"Don't be stupid," she said. "I wear my jumper over it."

"You're...not trying to _impress someone_, are you?"

She put a hand on her hip, giving me this look that said, "I can't believe you asked me that."

"_Never you mind! _ God! Why don't you mind your own business and get out of here with all your blood and those..._bug things_, okay?"

"Is Ms. Ripley bothering you?" Cat said as she entered the room.

"Dunno." Lexanna was leaning way around the bug carcass to grab her jumpsuit. "I _do know_ she was just leaving."

As she stuck her legs through the bottom of the outfit, she asked, "Cat, what happened to your eye?"

"The creature on the floor came from outside the base," the android said. "It attacked me. _ Ms. Ripley seems to attract them._"

"Here," I said, raising the scissors. "_Let me make you more symmetrical!_"

I stabbed her good eye, shoving past her into the staff lounge.

I slammed right into a big fat belly in an oversized shirt, my face hitting a pair of man boobs.

A plump brown had nearly dropped a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with strawberry sauce.

"Damn, Ripley," he said as he stared at my legs. "What the hell happened to _you?_"


	39. Chapter 39: Infestation

It was now apparent that Dan had playing dumb down to a science. I could see him now, saying such moronic things as, "A killer centipede? Clones? Reanimated dead people? Ms. Ripley, _you need to chill!_"

Since it was now quite obvious that I wasn't going to make any headway with rational discussion, the situation pretty much boiled down to some very bad people pursuing me, and a big lummox making himself an obstacle in my path.

"Hey," I blurted. "You dropped your ice cream."

He stared at me. "I what?"

I slapped the bowl out of his hand, causing it to shatter messily on the floor.

"Hey!" he cried, but I was already shoving past him, bolting into the hallway.

"_Oh no she didn't!_" I heard Dan growling as he cleaned up the mess.

"_Stupid woman_," Maurice agreed, pronouncing the latter word like it were a profanity.

The entrance to a small scientific lab lay around the corner from the employee lounge. We used the area for all purpose tests, experiments on brain melting fungus, the Hell's lice, some varying types of rock mites.

Someone had left the door cracked open, so I darted in.

The room was pitch black, which made it a perfect hiding spot. I pressed my back to the wall as I slowed my breathing, impersonating furniture.

"What was that?" I heard a woman's voice saying in the dark.

"Dunno," a man's voice answered, a familiar effeminate sounding voice.

I crept with silent spider-like fashion toward a shadowy corner.

My hand bumped a bolt, which rolled noisily along the rock floor.

I shrank as a flashlight beam swung my way.

"What is it, Nate?"

Nate was the head supervisor for our site.

Well, _secondary_ head supervisor. It was a well known fact that he hadn't attained this lofty position by his credentials alone.

The female voice, then, by simple deduction, had to be Angie McCarthy, the real one in charge.

The beam turned to a short rack of shelving, where a container full of those same types of bolts lay on its side.

"Nothing," Nate said. "It's just gravity." He showed her the bolt. "It must have fallen out of the bucket."

He straightened the container so that no more spilled out.

I let out a slow sigh of relief.

I watched as Nate shined a flashlight on the woman's body, blouse open, draped loosely around her shoulders, bra exposed, skirt pulled all the way off, the top of her bare thighs framed in lace and black satin.

The flashlight beam moved upward, to her face, uncharacteristically bashful, vulnerable even, as opposed to the stern expressionless mask she used when extending my service on this hell planet, like something were perpetually stuck up her ass.

I didn't see Nate's face in the dark, but I didn't need to. I remembered that slicked back hair, the pointy nose, the plastic grin.

"I don't see why we have to make out in the dark," he was saying to her. "Am I really that ugly?"

"If you must know, it's for the cameras. So we're not caught on tape. This wouldn't look good for either one of us."

"They already know we're an item."

"I know, but we're supposed to be in the caves, doing an inspection. If the higher ups catch us fraternizing..."

"Maybe we should have just..._done that_, then. I remember we had a lot of _fun_ on our _first inspection_ together."

Oh barf, I thought. Do I really have to listen to this?

"Did _you_ want to be on the bottom? Because the last time we tried that, I was laying down on a rock, and when I got back to my room, I was scratching my inner thighs all night, until I had raised welts between my legs. I thought it was you at first, but it was those damned cave mites."

Noting that they were completely ignoring me, I flattened myself against the floor, crawling beneath a supply rack.

"They've _spray bombed_ the place down, remember?" Nate said. "_And_ I have a puncture proof air mattress, if you want to try it out..."

By the way, this is all coming from our worship leader during `Solar Sundays.'

"I like it here," she said. "_It's clean._"

When I shifted position, I brushed a piece of paper. He glanced at the door, appearing to know I was there.

"I'm a visual...person," he said. "And I like what I can see so far."

"Would _your wife_ like what _she_ sees?"

Nate sighed. "All right. You got a point."

He pointed the flashlight at her breasts. "I've only got two hands."

"That _does_ pose a problem."

"Couldn't we...plug in a night light?"

She shook her head.

He pointed the beam up from below his chin. "Admit it. You're just turned on by Boris Karloff."

"Do me a favor and stick that thing in your mouth."

"What about you? You know these walls aren't exactly soundproof..."

She pulled out a ball gag.

When I saw the object, I prayed for a mishap that would permanently affix it to her face.

"I saw her go this way!" a voice shouted outside the door. "She couldn't have gotten far!"

Nate had been unfastening Angie's bra with the flashlight in his mouth, but now he yanked it out. "What the hell was that?"

The site supervisor loosened her ball gag. "Dunno. Keep quiet."

She clicked the flashlight off, but I could still her the frantic rustling of clothing and soft grunts.

Soon they were making muffled animal sounds.

All of a sudden, the door burst open, and a fat brown hand switched on all the lights.

I could see the lab tables, the beakers, the racks of tools, and the laughably inadequate cover I'd concealed myself beneath.

It was basically one big long cookie sheet with slight skirting on the sides, large holes looking into my hiding place at regular intervals.

One of the tables contained a huge rock, which had been sliced open to reveal a mass of purple quartz crystals.

To my great dismay, that same rock also contained a mass of crawling bugs, but nobody was paying attention to _that_.

My feet were sticking out from the end of the rack. I quickly pulled them in, trying to make as little sound as possible.

Lucky for me, my supervisors' activities provided a more than adequate distraction.

Nate's pasty white body froze in mid-thrust. "Shit!" he gasped.

Angie screamed through her nose.

"Oh God," Dan groaned. "_I don't even want to know!_"

He flipped the lights back off.

"_That was not even cute,_" I heard him muttering as he went away. "_Not even! _ The man's a _skeleton!_"

Angie loosened her gag. "Great. Now _he_ knows. We could have just used your bed."

"_Everyone kinda knew already._ I just hope my wife doesn't see the footage."

"The lights were only on for what, a second? We should be fine if they stay off."

And then they were back at it again, Angie letting out a moan so loud that Nate had to remind her of the gag.

While all of this had been happening, I had noticed an itchy sensation traveling up my pant legs.

I endured this patiently enough, hoping that this amorous couple would finish their damn coitus and get the hell out of there.

Well, until one of the bugs bit down hard enough to make me scream and hit my head on the shelving.

It seemed the centipede thing I birthed already had family.

"Hey!" Angie shouted. "Who's there!"

"Just ignore it," Nate grunted. "We'll discipline her later."

I didn't have time to discuss the situation. I just ran to the switch and flipped the lights back on.

"Give my regards to your wife!" I said, rushing out the door.

Now here's the thing about bloodthirsty insects. The like motion, and they like bare skin. This was why, when I came running down the corridor, past the cafeteria and the administrative offices, I heard a bloodcurdling shriek.

I kept going.

The space suits and the exit were past the geology lab and the tool rooms. I was about to grab one and run outside, but as I neared Tool Room 8, I overheard people talking.

"What makes you think she'll come this way?" I heard Dan saying.

"I saw her messing with spacesuits earlier," I heard Kingston answer. "She does not have C1 Access, so she only have one way in or out, and it is through here."

Shit, I thought backtracking up the hallway.

That's when I see a large chitinous body wiggling out from behind a light switch panel.

It crawled down the wall in a speedy, curving motion that seemed almost drunken, clumsy even, but I feared this was intentional, to get to the floor quicker.

It did its Slinky routine a few more times, and then it was on the concrete below, barreling toward my feet.

A bigger one, this one with a head the size of a softball, jostled a vent cover open along the floor.

I ran in the only direction that felt safe, south, into the mines.

"Did you hear that?" I heard someone saying.

I kept running.

The chamber was deathly quiet, which is weird for a twenty four hour seven day nonstop shift based drilling operation like this.

The `stage lights', powered by long power cables running from the base's main power supply, were still on.

Ordinarily, this was something of a comfort, for it meant that people were still working their shifts.

With the site abandoned, however, every flicker was unsettling.

I didn't have the luxury of being afraid of the dark. I would have to kill those things and hide out somewhere, maybe figure out a way off the planet.

I dove behind a large stalactite, searching for the biggest rock I could find.

I found a good sized chunk of Haddanium, one big enough to crush things to a pulp without throwing out my back, and I waited for the bugs to come.

The rock mites had the color of Lucky Charms cereal pieces, a dull pastel rainbow tinged with unsightly tan-browns. I could feel them crawling up my panties, but I didn't dare drop the rock.

The first one around the corner was the softball headed one.

I brought the rock down, crunching its skull into a flat pancake that oozed black goop.

When I raised the rock again, the fucking thing was still moving.

Suppressing a scream, I brought the rock down again and again and again, but its claws kept moving, its body wiggling closer.

It encircled my legs.

I bashed it across the midsection, and the creature shook off part of its carapace, revealing a second smaller head concealed within its trunk.

It opened its mouth, baring a set of deadly fangs.

I lost sanity at this point, battering the thing over and over again until its limbs flailed uselessly from its broken sides, a last vicious grasp for prey.

As I gasped for breath, drenched in sweat, I saw the smaller centipede rush out from hiding.

I was exhausted, but I raised the rock again.

The creature retreated to a safe distance, as if it knew what I'd do next.

I approached it slowly, pretending like I didn't want to smash its body to a black pulp, but I swear _it knew_.

I set the rock down on an overhanging shelf, intending to fake it out, but the moment my hand moved toward that rock, it mockingly pranced back on its hundreds of legs, circling around me, in attempts, it seemed, to escape the rock, and my line of sight.

I saw an opening.

I took it.

The rock slammed down on the cave floor, but the creature nimbly jumped away.

And then it reared up on its back legs, curled up like a spring, and shot straight for my jugular.

"God!" I screamed, instinctively jerking back, but it was already an inch from my neck.

A black claw snapped down around the insect's body.

I saw a dark head loom close, shoving the frantically wiggling creature through a set of glistening translucent shark's teeth.

Crunch crunch crunch.

Crunch crunch crunch.

The sound was like a person eating Grape Nuts. Loud, with hints of the gooey mess squishing from the insect's guts.

I backed away from this..._thing_, staring at it in astonishment.

Big, black and beetle-like. No eyes.

I didn't trust the thing any more than those centipedes, so I crept around the back of another stalactite, watching it eat.

The black thing waved a claw at the insect I smashed to death. "Hey. You gonna eat that, or can I have it?"

The big alien thing just spoke to me.

Asking me if I wanted to eat a killer bug monster.

As if it were a box of French fries I'd left on my serving tray at McDonalds.

"S-sure," I stammered, backing further away from it. "Go ahead. Eat it."

"You sure?"

I swallowed and nodded.

"You don't sound so sure. If you're really hungry..."

"Eat the damn thing!" I cried. "Please!"

I backed into a rock, found that the rock was part of a wall. I couldn't go around without getting near _that thing_ again.

And then I laughed. it came out as the coarse bark of a madman.

The next sounds I made could have been construed as giggles, or maybe sobs.

"You remind me of someone," the creature said between bites.

It wiggled its claw finger a minute, as if grasping for the answer.

It swallowed another bite, turning to face me. "No, no, don't tell me."

It stomped closer, its finger wagging. "I know this one!"

After a dramatic pause, it said, "Me!"


	40. Chapter 40: Big Ripley

"I heard screaming," Kingston's voice called from behind a natural pillar. "She must be somewhere in these caves."

"Shit!" I gasped, hiding behind a rock wall.

The monster calmly laid down on the floor, her midnight black shell providing perfect camouflage in the dark cave.

"She'll probably panic and come back here for a spacesuit," Dee remarked. "She doesn't know there's air back in those caverns."

Was this true? Did I really have nothing to fear? Or were they having this conversation for my benefit, so I'd run back there and die?

I held my breath until they went away.

The big black bug thing purred as it got back up, its eyeless head appearing to gaze at me thoughtfully.

I stared at the big black bug thing in puzzlement and disbelief. "How...exactly do I remind you of you?"

"I was human once. What's your name?"

I told her.

She shrank back from me, apparently in fright. _"That's my name!" _She regained her confidence, rushing up to me with such speed that I had to suppress a scream. "Why do you have my name!"

"I don't know!" I sobbed.

The creature stomped the ground and roared. "How the fuck do you have my name!"

I couldn't take this anymore. I curled up in a ball and broke down in tears, blubbering nearly incoherently about everything that happened to me.

The creature, this _Big Ripley_, I suppose I should call her, gasped when she heard it, shaking her head and clutching the sides of her skull. "My God! Is everything around this place complete batshit?"

When I had finally regained my composure, I sniffed and asked what _her_ story was.

It was just as insane as mine. An underground treasure vault with brain worms and other horrific things I hoped I would never see, and some ind of mind-body transference to this giant form I saw before me.

"Were you a clone too?" I asked.

"I...don't know," she admitted. "I can't remember much about my life before I came to this planet. After I died, a lot of memories went away, and more and more of them seem to leave me every day."

"Why is this cave so quiet?" I asked her. "Ordinarily it's full of people. Did you kill someone?"

"I don't know," Big Ripley said. "Sometimes I go to sleep and wake up with my mouth full of human blood. I've been trying to break the habit by stuffing myself with Hell's Lice before I sleep..."

This made me tremble in fright. "Let me know when you're sleepy so I can hide."

She chuckled a little. _"I'll try." _Then she sighed heavily. "They could have run away because they're scared of me, but I'm pretty sure this isn't my doing. I think I heard someone being told to clear out. Some story about toxic gas, I think it was."

"You know these caves, don't you?" I asked.

The creature gave me this look that said "Seriously?" _"That's all I know these days."_

"Listen, I need to find a way out of here. I've got to find a suit, and get to a radio, something, anything, so I can get off this planet, before someone tries to kill me, or _worse!_"

"There's only one way out of these caves," Big Ripley said. "_Base C. My old base._ I'm not sure if the radio equipment is working, but there _are_ spacesuits. You may even be able to use the emergency escape pods, if you can figure out how to repair the ones that are left."

"I've been to base C," I said. "Those suits are old. The oxygen tanks have been cannibalized by other bases already, and that includes the escape pods. There shouldn't be anything left."

"I've lived in this base twice as long as you, and I have been there recently, so I can tell you for a fact that they still have one. If you'll look around, you'll see it."

"Still, it's no good," I said. "The base itself, they drained the air out of it."

"I've _breathed_ the air in there, so I _know, by firsthand experience_, that there's breathable oxygen in Base C. They have a hydroponics section that's still being maintained by droids. _ They're lying to you._

"Near the room with the escape pods, there should be a discarded suit that smells like garlic. It's a big one, but if you can't find another one, it's your best bet for escape. Unfortunately, you're going to need a key card or something to get in there."

"I'll figure it out," I said. "Even if it means yanking out the wires. At any rate, I'd rather die there than die here."

"Good luck with that...Have you seen my baby?"

I stared at her in horror. "Baby?"

She gave me that gesture fishermen give when describing a big catch. "Yay big? _Eight legs?_"

I panicked, backing away from her. "_That's your baby?_"

Big Ripley nodded. "Don't ask me what happened. I don't understand it myself."

I retreated further, thinking about how that freakish baby ripped at Wayde's face.

"Where are you going?" she asked, closing the gap.

"Get away from me!" I shrieked.

_"That's hardly how one repays somebody that just saved your life!_"

"Your _baby_," I yelled. "That _abomination, it killed my coworker! And now I know you're to blame...!"_

I shuddered, turning away. "You want to see your baby? Go up to that base I just left. Take a look around behind those locked doors!" And I fled from her.

It was dark in that cave. My head bumped into a stalactite, I slipped on a slimy cave floor, and fell through a hole.


	41. Chapter 41: Air

"Watch where you're going, dumbass," Big Ripley told me as she pulled me out of the crevice. "Death may be an escape, but I'm pretty sure there are other options you want to consider first."

I had fallen onto a recessed shelf in the cavern floor and gotten myself banged up pretty bad.

"Thanks," I muttered as I dusted myself off. "I guess."

I was terribly bruised, but otherwise all right. I could still walk.

"Do you know the way to Base C?" she asked me.

"We normally take a rover," I said. "Ever since they used explosives on the tunnel."

"I tore the rocks down," Big Ripley said. "Enough for me to get in and out. It seems nobody noticed."

The tunnel up ahead was pitch black. I would only stumble again if I made further attempts.

"It's dark," I said. "No one wants to divert power to the quarantine zone."

"I don't need eyes to find the place," Big Ripley said. "Grab my tail."

Though her tail felt slimy and looked jagged as a saw blade, I grabbed it anyway, allowing her to drag me along through darkness.

We traveled in silence for awhile, eventually squeezing between a couple monds of boulders, entering a straight concrete hallway.

All of a sudden, the ceiling lights came on, temporarily blinding me.

A pair of figures in space suits came through an intersecting passage, carrying a big heavy looking cargo container.

As they passed me, their helmets turned to look at me.

One of them was a thickly muscled black man with a big bandage over his forehead. The patch on his suit said Brett. The other, a smaller figure with the name Hatch, had no head at all. The only thing I could see inside the helmet was a gold device with flashing lights where the neck should be.

"Those people are dead, aren't they?" I whispered to my companion.

"Probably," she said. "What do the suits say?"

I told her.

"Yeah. They're dead."

"But how is this possible?"

"Probably the same way Luigi Galvani and Victor Frankenstein did it. Run enough electricity through the right parts of the nervous system, and the muscles move around any way you want them to."

"But why would anyone want to do such a thing?"

Big Ripley shrugged her shoulder plates. "Cheap labor that doesn't talk back?"

The two men disappeared down the hallway.

"I should be crying," Big Ripley said. "That man was my boyfriend."

She sighed. "I guess my heart has grown an exoskeleton, too."

I shivered.

It turned out there _was_ air in Base C, just as I'd heard. I breathed freely with little difficulty.

Big Ripley gestured to a hallway. "The escape pod room is this way."

We passed more dead people in space suits, all busily carrying things to and fro. It seemed there was another drill site, recently opened up at the end of the hallway, and these walking corpses were servicing it.

She pointed at a jumpsuit wearing woman with a big bandage wrapped around her chest. "Becky Capstan. Killed by Al Buraq."

Her claw moved to an American Indian. "Spotted Owl. Also killed by Al Buraq."

We arrived at the pod room.

A few button presses with her claw, and Big Ripley had the airlock open. It seemed she didn't need eyes to figure out the security code.

When I saw what lay inside, all my hopes for a speedy escape abruptly vanished.

The silos that once housed all the escape pods now served as a breeding farm for Hell's Lice, in all their stages of development.

A little twenty year old lady with a bandaged head (Tarnisha) fed larval Hell's lice with rotting fungus laden pieces of wood, a woman wearing spacesuit pants over a jumpsuit and enough surgical stitches to be Frankenstein's bride (Gina) moving pupae into a tank filled with sand and gravel, which the bugs apparently could eat in a manner similar to a cow digesting cellulose.

Their waste secretions, hardened Haddenium flakes, a fat woman named Rhonda picked out of empty silos and put in bins.

A space suit wearing figure named Will had the task of placing the adults in their own containers with larger rocks. His helmet was filled with black sludge. I couldn't see a face.

None of these zombies seemed to care we were there.

The space suit Big Ripley described sat folded neatly on top of one of these silos. The creature brought it down for me, dusting it off as she put it in my hands.

"This was my suit once," she said.

I pulled it on, then gagged at the smell.

"It smelled like shit when I wore it, too. Funny, you'd think the odors would have faded by now."

She handed me the oxygen tank, which, surprisingly, still contained air.

"Thank you," I said. "If there's anything I can do for you in return..."

I didn't really mean it, but it sounded good.

Big Me gave no answer to this. She only seemed to look sad.

"Where's the transmitting station?" I asked.

"I'd probably use the beacon in one of the rovers," she answered. "They've dismantled the radio equipment here. It may seem like a waste of air to walk all the way around outside, but if you don't want to be detected, it's your best shot."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you need help finding the way out?"

"No," I said. "I'm familiar enough with the entrance."

I left her, passing more dead people busily carrying tools down to the new dig site, all of them mindlessly whistling the theme song to TV's _Full House._ A chunky Mongolian looking man. A bird nosed guy named Ephraim. A guy with Japanese style tattoos on his arms.

I passed the various labs, arriving at the main airlock.

I checked my suit, making sure the air pressure was correct, the tubes connected, the fabric tear free.

I opened the innter airlock, sealed myself inside, opened the outer.

A rover was parked out front, a space suited figure busily working on one of the doors. I ducked behind a boulder and watched.

It was a female, by the looks of it. She had out an automatic screwdriver and some other tools, removing what appeared to be a piece of tinting film from the window.

The film suddenly flickered to life, and I could see a rocky alien landscape cycling across its surface.

As I stared at the image, it changed to a recording of a dust storm.

I thought of my drive with Kingston, and a horrible picture formed itself in my mind.

How much of those trips in the rover were actually illusion?

How many times did they just drive me in circles for an hour and act like they were going somewhere while I watched a recording?

_And it was a lot less distance to walk to Base C through the caverns._

The female adjusted something on her helmet, looking like she intended to unscrew it, but then she spotted me, slowly marching to where I was.

I could see the face clearly now.

Dee.

"Ellen!" said a voice on the helmet radio. _"Thank God! We were so worried!"_

I turned away from her, breaking into a run.

I didn't know where I was going, I just fled in any direction that wasn't cluttered with rocks, away from Dee.

"Where are you going, Ellen?" she calmly asked. "The only thing out there is a thousand miles of dust and rock. You don't want to be caught out here when the next dust storm rolls in!"

"You mean like that little dust bowl you were putting on my mobile movie theater?"

"You weren't supposed to see that," she said.

"I know."

I sprinted across the rocky landscape in desperate attempts to lose her.

I ran only to find a spot to hide away until Dee lost interest and disappeared.

The woman trailed behind me at a slow, relaxed pace, like a serial killer in a horror film. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you, that's where!"

She laughed, a sharp bark that sound forced.

The terrain was unfamiliar to me. I sought only a crater, a boulder, anything to hide behind, or inside, somewhere I could lay in wait with a rock.

My boot slipped over a loose stone.

I lost my footing, slipping over the side of a steep rubble strewn grade.

I flipped head over foot, rolling and tumbling down this dusty slope, hitting bumps and several large boulders along the way.

The face plate of my helmet his a large rock, developing a spiderweb crack. Already I could hear the air hissing out.

I flipped over, doing a faceplant in the sliding gravel.

The crack became a gaping hole, my steadily dwindling O2 supply rushing out in great clouds.

Down and down I went, rolling into a sort of dry ravine. My oxygen kept draining.

I hit the bottom, sprawling on my back in a cloud of dust.

My suit was ripped in several places, air puffing out the ragged holes.

And then, without warning, the tank stopped pumping air.

For a few minutes, I tried holding my breath, digging in the suit pockets for tape or anything I could use to mend the damage. I found nothing.

I exhaled involuntarily, then inhaled before realizing there wasn't any oxygen to inhale.

Well, _there shouldn't have been any_.

At first, I thought I had merely inhaled the last remnants of my oxygen supply as they escaped the damaged seams, my little shallow breaths catching the very last whiffs before asphyxiation set in, but then I accidentally inhaled again, and noticed the air seemed fresher, not like the canned garlic smelling stuff in the suit at all.

Though it had an unpleasant smell, like burning tires and sour milk, I could tell it was fresh, coming from outside the helmet.

For an entire minute, I just breathed and laughed like someone that had lost their sanity, because I had.

I unscrewed my helmet and took it off, inhaling deeply.

And then I laughed until tears came to my eyes.

Gravel crunched above my head, a feminine figure casting shadows across the dusty ground.

"Your brain is being deprived of oxygen," Dee said. "You only think that you're breathing air."

"What am I breathing then?" I asked.

"You're not breathing, you're suffocating. We need to get you into the rover."

I looked up and saw she wasn't wearing her helmet either. "What about you? What about _your_ equipment?"

She pulled out a gun. "Come back with me, Ellen. _You're sick. You need to lie down._"

I threw a rock at her head and ran like hell.


	42. Chapter 42: The World Beyond

Blindly I ran across the rocky planet, not caring where I went, as long as I got away.

I always suspected something amiss with Dee, ever since she stepped inside that rock wall, but now I knew she was up to no good.

I dove behind a boulder, skittering down another rocky grade.

I heard motors in the distance, and what sounded like birds, though both seemed to be an impossibility.

Things soon became a lot more impossible.

The grade sloped down into a swampy mush.

Actual mud and water swelled around my boots. It made sucking noises as I tromped along.

And then I saw the chain link fence.

An actual fence.

With razor wire on top.

In the middle of nowhere.

The name of the fence company was printed in clear boldface English.

I'm hallucinating, I thought. Or maybe this is all a dream.

Through the fence, a few kilometers down, I could see a beach, and beyond that, what appeared to be an ocean.

Wanting to get a better look, I slogged up a hill, the steepest one I could find in the area.

The hill wound up on top of a boulder, then a rock shelf, then the side of a mountain.

My original intent had been to glance down in the area of the fence, to see everything I could see in that area, but as I climbed, I began to notice _details_. Unsettling things about the place where I'd been spending the majority of my life.

Unknown to me, our bases all lay at the bottom of a massive crater, which stretched for miles in every direction. I wouldn't have seen it within the narrow perimeter I'd been allowed to explore on an a day by day basis.

What disturbed me more than this was the object that had apparently caused this crater, for it was not your typical asteroid.

The thing I saw projecting from the rocks and dirt, appearing to blend in with the surrounding geology, was a colossal sort of disk, half buried in the ground, and surrounded on all sides by jagged rock formations. You never would have noticed it, unless you viewed it from a fair distance.

Our encampments had all been built around this thing.

We'd been spending months, chiseling away at it, acting like it wasn't even there.

And then I turned toward the ocean.

As if this discovery hadn't been shocking enough.

Below me, amidst the swamp, I could see a crumbling village, and in its center, a glittering silver orb, like a massive dimpled golf ball, neglected by the caddy of the gods in some celestial PGA Tournament.

I descended down the mountain, returning to the stagnant oozing mire, buzzing with what appeared to be ordinary gnats and dragonflies.

Evolution, I thought. As Kingston sad, such insects had to be common in other parts of the universe, as were the cattails and rotting lotus stalks.

This I thought until I saw the half submerged garbage can.

The label on the can and its festering contents had disappeared due to weather and whatever passed for animal life there, but the rusting monorail car nearby promised greater clues.

I fought the stubborn door until the opening was wide enough for me to enter, wading into a compartment that looked no different than something you'd see at your average theme park. It even had light up sign boards, though the contents of these were faded to the point of unreadability.

Although largely devoid of informative artifacts, I _did_ find a magazine on one of the benches, yellowed by time. I tried to sit down and read it, but the pages came apart in my hands, and the padded bench was basically one big piece of hairy mold.

I stood, examining the pieces of paper that hadn't fallen into the murky water.

"Polar Ice Caps Continue To Melt. Florida Evacuated."

There were pictures illustrating the change.

"Massive Asteroid Hits Tip of Florida" said the other crumbling bit of paper. "Earthquakes shift California into the ocean. Mass migration into Utah."

"Government Quarantine For Entire State of Florida," it said on the back. "Biological and radioactive contagion feared."

I staggered out of the car, my head whirling with confusion.

What was this place? A government test site? A laboratory set up to test human beings? Or was I dreaming all of this?

I waded ahead, and saw _the castle_.

Despite the flaking paint, and ugly cracked framework, the design and color was unmistakable. I'd seen it at the beginning of dozens of movies, with fireworks and magical sparkles flying over its towers and ramparts.

It was Cinderella's Castle.

And then a motorboat roared past the barbed wire fence.

It started as a low growl, and then I saw the boat skimming waves along the fence, a fence bookended by fiberglass animals wading in chest deep water. A mouse wearing trousers mellowed pink with water damage.

The boat was black, like a miniature fortress on the water.

A Munson patrol boat.

Police grade.

Not a single little green man in sight.

Hearing a loud rumbling behind me, I whirled around to see a Humvee and a pair of black trucks bumping over the drier sections of the submerged park.

I kept staring at the castle.

We'd never left the planet earth.

We'd been in Florida the whole time.

This was all some elaborate government test.

Somehow the crashed asteroid had brought Haddanium, Hell's Lice and deadly fungus with it, along with that mythical temple that Big Ripley told me about.

Some kind of cosmic event, equivalent to an asteroid hitting Jupiter, had knocked a chunk of the real planet Jagalchi to earth, and someone sent us her to drill and study it.

I dropped to my knees in the stagnant water and laughed and laughed and laughed.

A man in a space suit approached me. He was bald and bearded. His name tag said Dennis Goldike.

"C'mon, Ripley," he called. "It's time to go back."

I didn't fight him. I just meekly followed him into the Hummer.

And then I laughed some more.


End file.
